Stacey Winchester, MD
by loveintheimpala
Summary: Sisfic. After their fight with Azazel, Sam, Dean and their father suffered a car accident that left Dean fighting for his life. Taken to the closest hospital, they find an unexpected ally; the sister that has been away from their family for so long. Troubled by her past with Dean, she fights to do her job the best she can and save her estranged brother from death. Follows Season 2.
1. Stacey Winchester, MD

_Hi, guys! So this was written as a request from one of my lovely readers. _

_It's set at the beginning of season two, after the season one car crash in the last episode. _

_Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

**Stacey Winchester, MD**

_Jefferson City, Missouri — Clearwater Valley Hospital — Emergency Room — 01:17am. _

Stacey took a small bite of the red apple in her hand, and she heaved a worn sigh. Her green eyes were stinging, and the words of the many forms and reports scattered across her desk were becoming blurred and disorientated. Why had she volunteered herself for the night shift? It was the first and last time she would ever do so, because, at this point, she was sure that no amount of coffee was going to sustain her. Her body simply craved one thing; sleep, and that was so many hours out of reach that she couldn't fathom the thought of getting through her shift at all.

It was an unusually quiet night for their team, and she found herself wondering how her friends did this every night.

"Not your usual Friday night, huh?" A voice called from behind her, amused, friendly, pondering.

A smile crossed Stacey's face, genuine, and she tossed her apple the short distance to the trash. "You're not kidding." she replied. "It is _way _past my bedtime."

The girl behind her, Lauren, chuckled. And Stacey turned her chair to face her. "Well, what are the odds your first night shift with us on the ER would be the quietest I've ever seen it?" she asked, and the humour was evident in her tone. "How are you coping?"

Stacey huffed. "You have no idea what I'd give right now for something to happen." she quipped. "And, I mean, broken arm, case of the flu... anything. I feel like I'm about to pass out."

Lauren offered her a smile, sympathetic, understanding. "I get that." she nodded. "The night shift takes some getting used to. When are you back on your day shifts?"

"Couple weeks, I think." she replied, glum. "Once they've found someone to cover your big bad boss's shifts."

"You know, her going on maternity leave was the best thing that's ever happened to us." she remarked, humorous. "You're nowhere near as scary a boss as her. Plus, everyone here loves you. We're all terrified of her."

Stacey offered a smirk. "Careful what you wish for, Lauren." she mused. "You never know when big bad Stacey might come and get ya. Don't you have work you should be doing?"

For a long moment, Lauren stared at her, perplexed by the comment, before she gave a laugh. "Wow. You really had me going for a minute there, Stace." she chuckled. "You want another coffee?"

But Stacey shook her head. "Nah, they're on me." she offered, pushing herself from her desk. "I can't look at this paperwork anymore."

It was as Stacey made a move to leave her desk that the large double doors before them were barged open, and they both turned sharply at the sound. Two paramedics barged their way through to the ER, a stretcher pushed between them, and it looked urgent. Immediately, all signs of tiredness or weariness were forgotten, and she was on full alert.

Lauren rushed around the other side of the desk to greet them. "What have we got?!" she pressed.

"Car crash." The paramedic informed. He was in his fifties, and neither missed the fresh blood that stained his blue gloves. "Male, mid twenties. GCS-3, unresponsive. Significant passenger side intrusion, semi-trailer truck. Pressure dressing on head wound but it's seeping through. BP is 180 over 50. Heart-rate 95. We got another behind."

"Alright, Doctor Williams, you got this one?" Lauren nodded at her. "Okay, Treatment three."

Sure enough, within seconds, another stretcher was forced through the double doors. The paramedics at either side looked to her, and she didn't have to ask. "We got a male, early fifties, GCS-10, responsive. Head wound, suspected broken arm, vitals holding steady."

Stacey nodded, taking the information in. "Alright, Treatment four for me guys." she directed, taking a hold of the stretcher and leading the way. "Doctor Thompson, you're with me." she called towards a blonde nurse standing at her desk. "We'll get him checked over and head for X-ray on that arm." They turned the stretcher towards a free room, and aligned it with the empty bed. "Alright, airways are in tact. Let's get him off that back board." Firmly, they and the paramedics each took a hold of the board beneath him. "On my count, one, two, _three_."

The man was pulled onto the bed, and the paramedics pulled out the board. "You got this, doc?" The older one asked her.

Stacey nodded. "We're good, thanks guys."

But before she even had a chance to look down at her patient, the sound of footsteps running towards them caught her attention. They were heavy, pounding desperately against the tiled floor. The man who bolted through the doors stopped her breath.

"Jesus Christ." she breathed. "No." Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, and, as she glanced back over her shoulder at the two beds that had been brought in before him, her stomach twisted in knots. "Please, no."

"Stacey?" The voice pulled her from her trance, and she looked back to him, alarmed. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I, uh—" She shook her head, lost. "Sam? Are they...? What—"

"Stacey?!" Another voice called her name, urgent, panicked, from somewhere behind her.

"I'm sorry." she offered, her words little more than a whisper, before she turned and ran towards the source.

Lauren looked on at her as she entered the small room, alarmed. "Are you alright?"

Somehow, she snapped herself back to reality. "Yeah," She nodded, confident. "I'm fine." With a short breath, she composed herself, because she didn't know anything yet. Her attention returned to the task at hand, and she knew that she had to do her job. Right now, they weren't her estranged family, they were her patients, and they needed her help. Almost hesitant, she allowed herself to look down at the man on the bed, and that was when she truly realized the severity of the situation. Her brother. Dean. Covered in blood. Unconscious. Clinging to life.

"Doctor?" The firm voice of a nurse pressed, and she snapped out of her thoughts to note all eyes in the room were on her.

"Okay, uh..." Stacey cleared her throat. "12-lead EKG, chest x-rays, CT of the chest, abdomen, and get that head wound checked out. Intubation and ventilation." she ordered.

Lauren nodded. "Yes, doctor." Her eyes glanced to the beeping monitor behind them. "Stats are dropping."

Within seconds the beeping became frantic, as did the man standing beside the door. "What's happening?" Sam urged, looking between the doctors and nurses for some kind of answer. "Is he alright? Is he dying?"

"We need to intubate." Stacey ordered, her voice firm and strong, but he wasn't sure that she was even talking to him. He wasn't sure that she even remembered he was there.

Sam watched on in horror as his sister grabbed a tube and pulled back Dean's bloody head. She stood over him, and he winced as she pushed the tube into their brother's throat. For the smallest second she looked unsure, but even he saw the sigh of relief that left her. "Alright, I'm in." she pulled the device from his mouth and attached a balloon-like bag to the end of the tube, squeezing it gently.

"Stats are coming back up." The other nurse informed, her unblinking eyes locked to the monitor. "He's stable."

"For now." Stacey sighed. "Let's get some tests done and see what's going on here."

As she turned to leave, something stopped her. She glanced down to see Lauren holding her arm, a frown on her face. "Are you sure you're alright, Stace?" she pressed, concerned. "You don't seem yourself."

But Stacey nodded. "I'm fine." she assured. "I'm gonna go check on our other patient."

_Our other patient._ Stacey shook her head to herself, and she pulled a hand down her face. Their other patient was her father, a man she wasn't sure she was ready to face after so long. She wasn't sure she was ready to face any of them.

Nothing could have prepared her for the situation she found herself in. There was only one thing Stacey was sure of at this point; when she had left for work all those hours ago, her assumptions had been correct; it was going to be a long night.

* * *

_Jefferson City, Missouri — Clearwater Valley Hospital — Emergency Room — 05:01am. _

Stacey wasn't sure how much time had passed by since her father and brother had been brought into her emergency room. It could have been hours, yet it could easily have been mere minutes. Everything around them had dissolved into chaos, hurried and manic. But, as everything seemed to calm,as all sense of urgency seemed to dissipate from the environment, as she finally found herself not running around for test results or making phone calls or filling in paperwork, her thoughts returned to the man who had frantically followed the paramedics through the doors. Sam. Sooner or later she was going to have to face him. She didn't want to, but she needed to know what had happened to bring them there.

But, with that thought in mind, she stopped. Lauren approached the desk, her eyes scanning the words on the papers in her hands, and there was a concerned frown on her face. It wasn't like she was expecting good news regarding Dean, but this was about to confirm it.

"Hey." Stacey looked up at her, and she almost didn't want to ask. "We got some results?"

Lauren nodded. "Yeah, pretty much what we suspected." She gave a slow shake of her head. "God, this is awful."

Hesitant, she held out her hand. "Show me."

Lauren handed the clipboard to her. "So young. I mean..." She sighed. "I'll go inform the family."

"No." Stacey held up a hand to stop her, almost too quickly. Her eyes scanned the words, and her heart sank as she looked at the diagnosis before her. "I'll do it."

Seeming to think nothing of it, she nodded. "Oh, also," Lauren continued, holding out another clipboard of notes to her. "Patient in four, he's conscious."

Stacey nodded, taking the clipboard, but she said nothing. Tentative, she crossed the waiting room, and her eyes fell to Sam; sat with his head in his hands, in despair. She clutched the clipboard in her trembling hands, and she sighed softly. How was she supposed to tell him what she knew? It was going to destroy him, all of them. She changed direction and headed towards the coffee machine, as though putting off breaking the news for another five minutes was going to make it any easier.

Her hands were shaking as she picked up an empty cup and pressed the button. Black coffee was okay, right? It dawned on her, she hadn't spoken to her younger brother in so long that she wasn't even sure he liked coffee. But, at a time like that, she wasn't sure it mattered.

Something twisted in the pit of her stomach as she approached. The sound of her soft footsteps seemed to pull him from his thoughts, and he glanced up. She held out the coffee towards him with the smallest of smiles. "You look like you need it." she offered, the first real words she had spoken to him in so many years.

Sam stared at her for a long moment, until his trembling hand reached out and took the cup from her. He looked her up and down slowly, taking in the deep red scrubs that she wore, the white coat pulled over them rolled at the sleeves, the stethoscope around her neck, her hair was pulled back in a tidy bun, and he sighed. Missouri. Of all places. It hadn't even occurred to him that she might be working there. A thousand different thoughts had raced through his head on the way to the hospital, each one worse than the last, yet she hadn't even crossed his mind. The fact that she worked in that very town hadn't been one of them. And now, there she was.

"Thank you." he murmured, before his eyes fell to the dark liquid in the cup. "I, uh—" But he stopped, because, truthfully, he didn't know what to say to her.

"Sam," she pressed, her voice calm, professional, as though the two men lying in hospital beds weren't the only family she had. "I need you to tell me what happened."

Inside, her heart was breaking, because what the hell was he doing there? Dean and their dad, sure, she could accept that. But him? He was supposed to be at college. He was supposed to be out of the life. Why was he with Dean, and their dad? What had she missed?

But, this wasn't the time. This wasn't about them.

"You know what happened." he stated, blunt. "Car crash."

Her green eyes narrowed, and she pushed a lock of brown hair from her face. "Just a car crash?" she asked. "That's all?"

But Sam shook his head, and he huffed a dry laugh. There was no point in lying to her. "Is our family ever as simple as that?"

Stacey nodded slowly, as though in agreement. "No. I guess not." she murmured. "Look, Sammy, I think we need to talk."

"Alright," He noted the look on her face, and he didn't like it. Something was wrong. "Is this about Dean? Or Dad?"

"Both, actually." There was a pause, as though she was considering which news she wanted to break first. "Dad's awake." she told him, but he gave no reaction. She knew what he wanted to know. There was only one thing on his mind. "Look, I have some news about Dean, I'd really rather tell you this together."

"No." Sam stopped her, and he rose from his seat to face her. It was only then that she truly realized how much he towered over her. "Tell me now. How bad is it?"

Stacey cleared her throat. "It's bad." she offered. "Look, uh... Dean, he..." She pulled a hand down her face and took a short breath "Dean sustained serious injuries; blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidney..." She paused and glanced back to the chart before her. How could she even say the words out loud? None of this was right. "It's the head trauma we're concerned about. There's early signs of cerebral edema."

Sam stared at her, he didn't even know what that meant, but the look on her face told him enough. "Well, what can we do?" he pushed, desperate.

"Well, we won't know his full condition until he wakes up." There was another small pause, and her eyes found his. "_If _he wakes up."

Sam's stomach sank. He _had _to have heard her wrong. "_If_?"

"Look, Sammy, I'm gonna be honest with you, and I need you to hear me." She hesitated with her words, and a soft sigh escaped her. "Most people with this degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. Dean's fighting, hard. But you need to have realistic expectations here."

Sam shook his head, and he pulled a hand down his tired face. "Why are you talking to me like a doctor." he snapped. She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn't give her the chance. "That's your _brother _lying in there, Stacey. It's Dean. You have to do something."

But Stacey shook her head. "I can't work miracles, Sam." she responded, resolute. "I'm sorry."

"So, that's it?" he pushed. "What, there's nothing you can do? You're just gonna leave him like that? You're a doctor, Stacey. Fix him."

Stacey took a breath, trying with everything she had to remain calm. "I'm sorry." she repeated. What more could she say?

"Wait, wait, wait," He stopped her. "What about dad? You said he's awake? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, uh..." She glanced to the other clipboard in her hands, and she realized then that she hadn't even glanced at it since she had found out about Dean. Her eyes scanned the words slowly, and for the smallest moment, her stomach stopped churning. "Dad's going to be fine, Sam." she offered, as though that was supposed to make him feel any better about the situation they were standing in. "Broken arm, some cuts and bruises, but he's alright."

But that wasn't enough for Sam, not at this point. "How is he?" he urged. "Have you seen him?"

Stacey shook her head slowly. "No, I'm on my way to him now. Why don't you come with me?"

"No." His eyes pleaded with her. "What about Dean? We need to do something."

"One thing at a time, Sammy." she assured softly. "Come and see Dad."

Almost begrudgingly, he nodded in agreement, and Stacey released a breath of relief she hadn't noticed she'd been holding. She wasn't sure if she wanted to let her brother breathe for a moment, to have someone else there to talk him down when she couldn't, whether she wanted to let someone else worry about their brother for the briefest second, or if she truly didn't want to face their father alone. Her head was spinning, it was all too much for one night. In these situations there was only one person she needed; Dean.

It occurred to her as she knocked on the door, did their father even know that she was here?

The lights in the room were dim, and she had to wonder if their dad had turned them down in attempt to soothe the headache he had to have. There was a large dressing covering the wound on his head, and his arm was hung at his chest in a sling. Other than that, he didn't look any different than she remembered. The same frown was furrowed at his brow, full of concern and worry and monsters.

"Mr Winchester." she stated, and his head snapped up at her voice. "How are you feeling?"

The colour drained from his face. "Stacey?" he looked lost, perplexed. "What are you doing here?" But she didn't answer. She crossed the small room and took the chart from the end of his bed. Her eyes flickered between the monitor behind him and the papers in her hand as her pen scribbled words furiously against the sheet. John looked between them. "Where's Dean? Is he alright?"

Stacey's pen came to a halt, and she heard Sam close the door behind them. Her eyes rose to find his, and she saw the worry. "Dad, it's not good."

"What do you mean it's not good?" he pushed, as though to say he didn't like that response and he was willing to give her a shot at another one. "Are you his doctor?"

Stacey nodded. "Yeah, I'm his doctor." she cleared her throat. "Look, Dad—

"She doesn't think he's gonna wake up." Sam interrupted. He didn't need to listen to the doctor speech again, and neither did their dad. It was filled with nothing more than long words they didn't understand and disappointment. He wasn't going to let anyone, not even her, tell them that there wasn't any hope.

John looked to her, expectant. "Is that true?" But she said nothing. "Stacey." he warned, his tone harsh. "Is that true?"

"Medically speaking, it's not likely." she offered. "I'm sorry, dad."

"Medically speaking?" he frowned, confused. "It sounds like there's but coming."

"Well, I'm sure someone is going to disagree with me." She looked to her brother, eyebrows raised. "Aren't you."

"We'll find something." Sam assured, he sounded confident, driven. "There's always something, right?"

"To reverse a cerebral edema? No, Sam, there isn't." She sighed, and she softened her tone. "I'm sorry, Sam. I know it's hard, and I know that you don't wanna accept it, but Dean is not in a good place. The damage done to him is—"

"Fixable." he stopped her, blunt. "There might not be a medical answer here, but I will find something."

Again, she looked between them, and her gaze fixed to their dad. "Look, Dad, I know this isn't a good time, but.." She shrugged. "Rather I ask you than someone else."

John huffed a dry laugh. "I get it." he nodded. "Here," He reached awkwardly towards his bag with his free hand and took something from his wallet. "Are you gonna take this?"

Stacey regarded him for a moment, but she reached out and took the card from him. "Elroy Mcgillicutty." she read aloud, and a soft smile crossed her face.

"And his two loving sons." he stated. "You gonna keep it between us?"

Stacey nodded. "Insurance is insurance." There was a fondness behind her words. "For you, I'll look the other way."

"Well, I appreciate it." her dad said, sincere.

"So," Sam pressed. "What are we gonna do about Dean?" He threw a pointed look towards his sister. "If the doctors won't do anything, we're gonna have to."

"Like what, Sam?" Stacey raised her eyebrows at him, but she refused to bite. "What do you propose we do?"

"I don't know," He threw up his arms in despair. "I'll find some hoodoo priest and lay some mojo on him."

John sighed, unconvinced. "We'll look for someone, but.." He shrugged. "Sam, I don't know that we're gonna find anyone."

"Why not?" He frowned. "I found that faith healer before."

But John didn't look at all convinced, and Stacey simply didn't want to ask. "Alright, that was, that was one in a million."

"So what?" Sam pushed, angry. "Do we just sit here with our thumbs up our ass?"

"No, I said we'd look, alright?" he assured. "I'll check under every stone. I—" There was a long pause, and for a moment he seemed worried. His eyes rose to his youngest child, alarmed. "Where's the colt?"

"Are you serious?" That only seemed to spur Sam's anger on further. "Your son is _dying_, and you're worried about the colt?"

"We're hunting a demon, and maybe it's hunting us, too." he chided. "That gun may be our only card."

Sam seemed to think on his words for a moment, and he appeared to back down. "It's in the trunk." he affirmed. "They dragged the car to a yard off I-83."

"Alright," he concluded. "You've gotta clean out that trunk before some junk man sees what's inside."

"I already called Bobby." Sam stated. "He's like an hour out. He's gonna tow the Impala back to his place."

"Okay, you go and meet up with Bobby, you get the colt and you bring it back to me. And you watch out for hospital security." He shot an accusing look towards Stacey, who simply held up her hands as though to say she wasn't a threat. "Stace, you got a sheet of paper?" Silently, she tore the blank half of one of the scan results away from her clipboard and handed it to him. "Here," he furiously scribbled away for a moment. "This is a list of things I need, have Bobby pick them up for me."

Sam reached out and took the sheet from him, and a frown formed at his brow. "Acacia? Oil of Abramelin?" he read aloud. "What's this stuff for?"

John looked between them. "Protection."

Seeming convinced, Sam made a move to leave, but something stopped him. "Hey, Dad?" he glanced towards his sister, as though unsure he wanted to say anything in front of her, but he seemed to dismiss any concern. "You know, the demon, he said he had plans for me. And children like me. Do you have any idea what he meant by that?"

John simply shook his head, as though uninterested by the mere mutterings of a demon. "No, I don't."

"Huh." Sam nodded, appearing to accept it, and he left the room almost silently.

The door closed softly, and John returned his gaze to the accusing stare of his daughter. "What?"

Stacey shook her head. "Nothing." she muttered, turning to follow her brother. But she paused in the doorway. "Just a heads up, your poker face isn't what it used to be, you know. Now, whatever has gone on here, it's none of my business, Dad, but whatever you're hiding from him, he _will _find out. You know that." Her father's eyes narrowed, but he gave no indication that he was willing to divulge her any information. "Try and get some rest. I'll get started on your discharge paperwork."

With that, she pulled the door closed behind herself. Her eyes scanned the emergency room around her, and everything suddenly appeared so quiet, so calm. There was nothing urgent going on around them, there was no life or death situation that required her immediate attention, and she decided there that she needed a minute, she needed an escape.

Slowly, without being noticed by anyone, she headed towards the staff bathroom, and she punched in the code to the door from memory. She slipped inside, and the door closed behind her with a harsh thud that seemed to echo off the walls. For the first time since they had been brought in, Stacey allowed herself to really breathe. She stared ahead at her reflection in the mirror, all of her weight leaned on the sink before her, and she sighed deeply. What the hell was going on?

Giving a small shake of her head, Stacey pulled a shaking hand down her tired face. She felt sick. She was in shock. Her stomach was turning. Thoughts were bombarding around her head faster than she could listen to them. She was terrified. Her brother wasn't going to open his eyes again, she was never going to hear his voice again, and she was never going to be able to make things right with him. He was twenty-six years old, and he was alive simply by the aid of a machine. How had that happened? What had he ever done wrong?

Dean had always been the one person she never thought she would lose. When their dad would return from a hunt; angry and distant and drunk, when Sam would bury himself in his textbooks and wish away the years until he could leave for college, there was always her and Dean. The two of them were supposed to be unbeatable, they were supposed to drive away together and take down the evil in the world. The team of a brother and sister who just wouldn't be beaten. But it hadn't worked out like that. And now, she could never fix the mess that had become their relationship.

None of this was fair. To any of them.

Sam was a wreck, barely holding himself together for the sake of his brother. And their father? She couldn't even take a guess as to what was going on in his head right now. He didn't seem worried, he didn't seem concerned, yet there was something behind his eyes that told her maybe he knew something that nobody else there did. Maybe he was going to fix everything last minute like he always did. Perhaps he was going to swoop in and save the day when everybody else had given up hope.

But Stacey huffed a short laugh. That wasn't their father. It wasn't the dad that she knew. It wasn't the father who had raised her.

Tears built up in her eyes, and she blinked them away. She couldn't afford to let herself break down, not there, not now. No one needed that from her. She had a job to do, she had a broken family to fix.

It was just that usually, it wasn't her own.

* * *

_Jefferson City, Missouri — Clearwater Valley Hospital — Emergency Room — 06:47am. _

Stacey gave a short knock on the door of her father's room, and she took a breath before she entered. He remained in the same place he had when she had left him earlier, sitting on the edge of his bed, a deep frown on his face as though contemplating life and death. For all she knew, he was.

"Hey," she offered. "How are you feeling?"

John gave a shrug. "I'm fine, Stacey." he told her, firm. "It's not me you need to be worrying about."

A small smile crossed her face. "I've got enough worry in me for both of you." she stated, but there was little enthusiasm behind her words.

John regarded her for a long moment. "Does anyone ever ask you how you're doing?" he asked, sincere. But she looked confused, as though she didn't understand the question. "You're taking care of all these people, all the time... tonight, it's your own brother... how are you doing? It can't be easy for you Stacey."

"I'm alright." she murmured, but neither believed her. Slowly, she moved to sit in the chair beside his bed. "I don't know what to do, dad." she admitted, and there was so much guilt behind her words. "I don't know how to help him. I don't know how to fix him. I just... He's gonna die, Dad. And, Sam doesn't wanna hear this, you probably don't, either, but... I really don't know how to handle it."

There was a soft frown creased at his brow, one that told her he understood. "I know, sweetheart."

Slowly, she looked up to face him. "You said something about protection. You think this demon is coming back for you?"

"I don't know." he muttered. "Maybe."

"It rammed a semi-truck into the side of your car, dad." There was a question in her statement. "There's something you're not telling me here. What's going on?"

There was a long silence, and she could see him choosing his words carefully. "It's not just a demon we were hunting, Stacey. It was _the _demon"

"The demon like..." He nodded. "No. You found it? The one that killed mom?"

Stacey jumped a little as the door behind her was forced open. Sam stalked inside with a duffel bag clutched in his fist, mouth pursed together and a deep frown on his face. He took a short breath, maybe to compose himself, before he slammed the door closed behind himself. His back was to them for a long moment, and John and Stacey simply looked between each other, puzzled.

"Sam?" Stacey pressed, and she stood from her seat. "You alright?"

Sam turned slowly, and the anger on his face was much deeper than his actions indicated. He hurled the duffel bag down on the bed, and the contents inside gave a loud clunk as he did. "You think I wouldn't find out?" he demanded, eyes fixed to their dad and seething anger in his tone.

But their father simply frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"That stuff from Bobby, you don't use it to ward off a demon, you use it to summon one." He stated, blunt, his voice gradually rising as he spoke. Stacey looked up to their Dad, as though expecting him to deny it. She looked between them slowly, cautious. "You're planning on bringing the demon here, aren't you? Having some stupid matcho showdown?!" Sam yelled.

But he didn't deny it. He didn't even try. With a short sigh, he shrugged. "I have a plan, Sam." He answered flatly.

Sam just shook his head at him. "That's exactly my point!" He shouted. "Dean is _dying_, and _you _have a plan! You know what, you care more about killing this demon than you do saving your own son!"

Stacey cleared her throat. "Sam." she cautioned. "This isn't helping anyone."

"Do not tell me how I feel!" John retorted, his tone easily matching Sam's. "I am doing this _for _Dean!"

"How?" Sam countered. "How is revenge going to help him? You're not thinking about anybody but yourself. It's the same selfish obsession!"

"Guys-" She tried again, getting nowhere before their Dad carried on.

"You know, it's funny, I thought this was your obsession too!" He yelled. "This demon killed your _mother_, killed your _girlfriend_." Stacey's eyes widened at that comment. She had missed so much. "You _begged _me to be a part of this hunt, now if you'd killed that damn thing when you had the chance, none of this would have happened!"

"It was _possessing _you Dad," He argued. "I would have killed you too."

"Yeah, and your brother would be awake right now!"

"Both of you!" Stacey warned, trying to get at least one of them to see how out of hand this was getting.

"Go to hell." Sam spat, cold.

"I should have never taken you along in the first place." John continued, and it was clear that he wasn't prepared to back down. "I knew it was a mistake, I knew it was wrong—"

Before anyone had a chance at saying another word, the glass of water on the table in front of their father was sent flying across the small room, as though someone had thrown it, and it shattered on the hard floor before them. Sam and Dad looked between each other, and then to her. "Did you just-" Sam began, but he stopped.

"That wasn't me." Stacey said slowly, looking carefully around the room with them, but she disregarded it. "Listen to me, both of you. Shouting and blaming each other isn't helping Dean. Getting yourself thrown out of here in a fight is the last thing he needs right now. So I suggest the pair of you grow the hell up and put whatever petty argument this is behind you. Trust me, I am not above calling security on either of you."

John stared at her, perplexed. He opened his mouth, maybe to apologize, maybe to ask at what point she decided to start answering back to him, but he didn't get the chance. The sounds of shouting, hurried and urgent, came from the other side of the door, and a rush of people seemed to pass by the glossed window of the door.

"Something is going on out there." he concluded.

Sam pulled open the door, curious, just in time to see a number of nurses pile into their brother's room. There was a loud beeping coming from that direction, and something in his stomach sank. He looked helplessly towards his sister. "Stacey." His voice was low, panicked, confused. "Do something!"

But Stacey was way ahead of him. "Move." She pushed him straight out of her way, and she ran towards the commotion. One look at the sight before her was enough to know they had to move fast. "Get me a crash cart!" she yelled over her shoulder, to no one in particular. "Lauren, talk to me, what's going on?!"

Lauren looked quickly between Dean and the beeping machine behind her. "He's crashing!" she stated. "Stats are dropping!"

Sam felt his breathing stop as Stacey unceremoniously pulled the pillow from beneath their brother's head. She climbed up onto the side of his bed and began furiously pumping down on his chest. "One milligram of epi." she ordered.

Lauren nodded as she grabbed a syringe from the cart. "One milligram of epi." she repeated. "Hold compressions."

Stacey pressed her fingers to his neck, shaking her head. "No pulse. He's still in v-fib. Laura take over compressions. I'm charging it to two-hundred." Sam watched on in horror as the other doctor began working on his chest and his sister grabbed the paddles. "Clear!"

"Clear!" Lauren confirmed as she stepped back for a moment.

Dean's body jolted with the force of the electricity from the paddles of the defibrillator, but the machine continued to beep erratically.

"Still no pulse." Stacey commented. "Charging two-hundred."

Everything seemed to be falling apart around him, Sam couldn't believe what he was watching.

"Clear!" Stacey's voice ordered, and again everyone stepped back from their brother's body.

Once again Dean's body was jolted by the force, and the beeping seemed to steady. "We've got a pulse." Lauren affirmed.

Stacey breathed out a sign of relief, and before anyone could say another word she stalked out of the room. She couldn't be in there any longer, she couldn't see him like that. Her hands were trembling, and she was certain that what she had done in there was the hardest challenge she had faced in her entire career.

She forced open the door to her father's room, because, right now, it didn't matter that he was her patient, she needed her family. She was as much a part of it as they were, and it was starting to hit her now that Dean was more than just someone in her care; he was her family, and there was only so long she could force her feelings aside and pretend like he was just a part of her job.

"How is he?" John asked immediately. "What happened?"

Stacey looked up to him, tears in her eyes. "He's stable." she assured.

"Stable?" Sam's voice came from behind her. "For how long?"

"I really can't say, Sam." She turned to face him, and she gave a slow shake of her head. "I'm sorry."

His eyes narrowed. "You keep saying you're sorry." he stated, almost accusingly.

"Yeah, it's a doctor thing." she muttered. "And, to be honest, Sam, I really don't know what else I can say to you at this point. You want me to fix him, I can't. I don't know what to do here."

"What do you mean you don't know what to do, Stacey?" he snapped. "He's your brother, there has to be something. We can't just leave him in there to die. What happens next time when you can't bring him back, huh?"

Stacey opened her mouth to say something, not even sure what, but she didn't get the chance. "Back off, Sam." John warned. "She's doing her best here. We all are."

Sam sighed, and he nodded. "Yeah, I know." he murmured, apologetic. "It's just... I think he's here. I felt something"

Stacey blinked, perplexed. "What?"

Their dad frowned. "What do you mean, you felt something?"

"When you were resuscitating him. I mean, it felt like.." He paused for a second and sighed. He knew how it was going to sound. "It felt like Dean." Stacey raised her eyebrows at him, and they both looked as confused as he sounded. "Like, he was there, but just out of eyeshot or something. I don't know if it's my psychic thing or what, it..." He stopped and shook his head, turning to their Dad. "But do you think that's even possible? I mean, do you think his spirit could be around?"

Their father nodded slowly, as though not ready to rule it out. "Anything is possible." he said simply.

"Well, there's one way to find out." Sam replied, resolute, and he turned towards the door. "I gotta pick something up," he said over his shoulder. "I'll be back."

"Wait, Sam." John called after him to stop him, and Sam turned. "I promise you, I won't hunt this demon, not until we know that Dean's okay."

With a simple nod of understanding, Sam left the room.

Stacey heaved a sigh and dropped down into the chair beside her father's bed. Her head ached, her body was exhausted. Her mind pondered over Sam's words, could it be true? Could Dean really be wandering around there and they simply couldn't see him? It was one thing knowing that her brother was lying unconscious and fighting for his life, but to think that his spirit was walking around the corridors, lost and unable to come back, it gave her chills. If he wasn't even inside his body, what was the slim hope that they'd be able to bring him back again should he go? Somewhere in the pit of her stomach, she knew, her brother was gone, and he wasn't coming back.

"Stacey." Her father's voice stopped her thoughts, and she looked up to face him. "He's going to pull through, alright? It's Dean. He always pulls through."

Stacey offered the weakest smile. "I wish I could believe you, Dad." she admitted sadly. "I really do. But... I just don't see it."

"I know it's hard, Stacey." he offered. "But we'll fix this. We always do."

When she looked back to him, he noted the tears that filled up in her eyes. "I never got to make things right with him, Dad." she murmured. "All this time we haven't spoken a word to each other, and..." She shrugged. "What if I never get that chance again?"

"Dean was never angry at you, Stacey." he replied, his voice firm, as though to be sure she took in his words. "All this time, he never stopped talking about you, and he never stopped being proud of you. Dean did what he did _because _he's proud of you, and because he didn't want to lose you."

"Yeah," She huffed. "So the alternative was I lost him. I needed my brother, Dad, so many times. And he wasn't there."

"I know," He sighed. "But, you gotta understand why he did what he did. He doesn't know, Stacey."

Stacey's head snapped up at those words. There was a soft frown on his face, and his mind appeared a million miles away from that room, swamped with thoughts, worries that she couldn't even begin to understand. "Doesn't know what?" she pressed. "Wait, do you..." Her face paled. "You do. You know."

Slowly, her father looked up to her, and he rose from the bed where he sat. A small smile crossed his face, and his eyes softened. "You know something, Stacey, you look just like your mom when you smile." His words were quiet, and he took a couple of steps across the room to close the door. He sat back on the edge of the bed, facing her. "I'm sorry that you never got to know her, because, believe me, kid, she loved you so much. And she would have been so proud of you now."

Her brows furrowed, and she studied him carefully. This wasn't like their father. "Dad, what's wrong?" she pressed, concerned. "What's going on?"

"Nothing, I'm fine." He took a hold of her hand, and his thumb brushed over her wedding rings. "This guy... Matt... he looks after you, right? He treats you right?"

"You know about him?" she asked, confused. It had been years since she had really spoken to her father, yet there was something in his eyes that made it feel like it had been mere minutes.

"Dean tells me more than you think." he replied, fondly. "He gave you away, right? I'm sorry I made you feel like you couldn't ask me."

_Jefferson City, Missouri — St. Paul's Church — 11:22AM — Two years earlier _

_Stacey took a deep, soothing breath as she looked ahead at herself in the full length mirror. For a moment, she wasn't sure she even recognised herself, and she couldn't believe this day had come around so quickly. Everything had happened so fast, and this had been the first time she had truly been alone to breathe since she had woken up that morning. It all felt a little surreal. _

_There was a soft knocking on the door behind her, and she smiled. "Come in." she called, thinking nothing of it. _

_The door creaked open, and she saw through the mirror that it wasn't one of her bridesmaids. It was a man, he wore a smart suit, and it was the last person she had expected to see that day. _

_Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes wide in shock. "Dean?" _

_Dean said nothing, he simply stood there and stared at her for what seemed like forever. He took in the delicate white dress she wore, the way her long brown hair was curled and fell softly around her face, and she swore she saw tears in his eyes. _

"_Wow." he breathed. A grin spread across his face, and he shook his head slowly. "Stacey, you look beautiful." _

"_Dean, what are you doing here?" She closed the space between them and threw her arms around his neck, unable to hold back the smile that took over her face. _

"_You think I was gonna miss my baby sister getting married?" Dean pulled her closer towards him, and he squeezed her tightly. It felt like forever since he had seen her. "Guess my invitation got lost in the mail, huh?"_

_Stacey pulled back enough to look at him, but she kept a hold of his hands, and he saw the guilt in her eyes. He understood why she hadn't told him the date, he got it more than she knew. "Dean..." _

_But he shook his head at her simply, as though to say it didn't matter. "I'm not here to argue, Stace." he assured. "Matt called me." _

_Stacey frowned, confused. "Matt called you?" _

_Dean nodded. "The guy's alright, Stacey. He'll make a good brother in law." He regarded her for a long moment, and he smiled softly. "You know, you look so much like mom. She would have been so proud of you today, kid." _

_There were tears in her eyes, and she nodded slowly. "I hope so." A smile was forced through her tears. "I wish she were here." _

"_I know she's with you." he promised, his words gentle. "Anyway, I'll let you finish getting ready. You've got an angry bridesmaid out there who said you're on a schedule." _

_Stacey huffed a laugh. "Lauren." she said knowingly. "Don't worry about her, she's harmless."_

_Dean smiled. "I'll see you out there, sis." Stacey nodded, and she released the tight hold she had on his hands. He crossed the room towards the door, but he paused. "Actually, uh... I was gonna ask you... is someone, you know... since dad isn't here..." _

"_Is someone walking me down the aisle?" She shook her head, unconcerned. "No. But, it's alright. I never really pictured dad wanting to do the honours anyway." _

_Dean frowned, and it dawned on him with those words just how screwed up their family really was. What daughter automatically assumed her own father wouldn't be interested in walking her down the aisle on her wedding day? Honestly, it was kinda sad. And his next words left him before he could catch them. "I could." _

_Her brow creased to a frown. "What?" _

_Dean shrugged. "I mean, if you want." _

_Stacey regarded him for a long moment, and the softest of smiles crossed her face. She wasn't sure he understood what that small gesture really meant to her. "I'd love that." She smiled. "Thank you, Dean. Thank you for being here." _

_Dean nodded. "I'm so proud of you, Stacey." he told her. "You deserve this so much." _

_There was a knocking on the door, and Lauren appeared in the doorway. She glanced between them slowly. "Stace? You ready?" _

_Stacey nodded, and she looked up to her brother. He grinned down at her, and he took a hold of her hand. "Let's go get you married, sis." _

_Present day_

Stacey shook her head, brushing away the thoughts of that day. "I wasn't even sure that you knew." she murmured, more to herself than to him. "Dean really does tell you more than I think."

John offered her a soft smile. "And I know a lot more than he does."

But Stacey was nothing but confused. He couldn't be referring to what she thought. "Dad, what—"

There was something shining in his eyes, grief, sorrow, apology. "I'm sorry I wasn't at your wedding, Stacey. And, I'm sorry for what's happened to you. What you went through... I can't..." He pushed forward a shaky smile, and she could see him trying to hold back his emotions, his jaw was tightly clenched, but his words wavered. "I'm sorry you lost your baby."

Tears fell from her eyes, and she looked down at her lap. "Dad—"

"I'm just sorry, Stace. For everything. I've made mistakes with you, with all of you, I know that. And I'd give anything to take those back, to have been around more, to give you a better life, to have been there when you needed your family..." he trailed off, shaking his head slowly. "I want you to know that I never once stopped being proud of you. Ever." He reached out and pushed a lock of brown hair from her face, wiping the tears from her cheek with his thumb as he did. "My daughter is a doctor. How many people can say that, huh? You've done so well for yourself, and you've worked so hard. You deserve it, Stacey. You deserve so much more than the life I brought you up in. You all do."

"Dad, what's going on?" She reached out and placed a hand over one of his, searching his face for an answer. "You're freaking me out."

But John simply smiled down at her, tears shining in his eyes. "Everything's okay now, sweetheart." He moved to lean against the arm of her chair and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, resting his chin to the top of her head. "You're all going to be fine. You and your brothers, you're all going to be alright. I know it."

"Are you planning something stupid?" she asked, but a part of her wasn't sure she really wanted to know. "Tell me the truth."

But John didn't get the chance to respond. The door of the room was forced open, and Sam appeared with a large brown paper bag held in his arm. There was a box inside, but she couldn't tell what it was. "Stace." he looked directly at her, and nodded for her to follow him. "I need your help."

Stacey glanced between him and their father, who simply nodded at her. "I'll come check on you in a little while, okay?" she promised. "Don't do anything crazy before I get back."

And, with those words, she followed her brother from the room and pulled the door closed behind herself. Sam was already marching towards Dean's room, confident and with purpose. She didn't have the chance to ask what was going on before he ushered her inside and closed the door behind them. He pulled the box from the paper bag and looked to her, expectant.

Her eyebrows rose in disbelief, and she huffed a laugh. "You're joking, right?" she pressed, bemused. "Sam, you can't do this here."

Sam looked from her to the box in his hands; _Mystical Talking Board_ was written in large letters across the front, and he failed to see what she found so amusing. "I need your help here, Stacey." he urged. "I can't shake this feeling. Dean's around here somewhere, out of sight. This is the only way we can talk to him."

"You're not joking." she concluded. "Okay, Sam, listen to me—"

"_Please_, Stacey." he pleaded. "We need to know. We need to be sure."

With a sigh, and anything but happy about it, she lowered herself to sit on the cold tiled floor, and he followed suit. She watched on as he removed the board from the box and placed it between them, before he positioned the planchette in the middle.

"You know," she pondered. "If Dean is around here somewhere, he's probably laughing at how lame you are right now."

Sam found himself smiling at that, and he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're probably right." he mused.

Something caught Sam's eye, and a frown furrowed at his brow. Stacey didn't notice how his gaze lingered on the large, delicate diamonds around her third finger for a moment, sparkling under the lights above them. Something twisted in his stomach. He hadn't even noticed until them, too wrapped up in everything going on around them, but his eyes fell to the badge pinned to her uniform, beneath her picture was a name; _Stacey Brooks, MD_. "You got married." he stated, blunt.

Stacey followed his gaze, and pulled back her hand out of sigh. "Sam, I—"

"Never mind." he muttered. He took a short breath and turned his attention to the board between them. They each placed their fingertips to the planchette, expectant. "Dean?" he called out. "Hey, uh, we think, maybe, you're around here somewhere? Are you here?"

The two of them waited for a short moment before the planchette moved slowly towards YES on the board. Stacey's head snapped up in shock to face her brother, and she could see by the look on his face that he hadn't been the one to push it, he looked as confused as she was.

Sam gave a relieved laugh, and for the first time since they had arrived in that hospital he felt some kind of hope in his chest. "Man, it's good to hear from you." he chuckled. "It hasn't been the same without you, Dean."

The planchette began to move once again beneath their fingers, and they both frowned down at it as they watched. "Dean, what?" Stacey's eyes followed the letters carefully. "H... U... N...T... Hunt? Hunting? What, you're hunting something?"

The pointer quickly moved back to YES.

"It's in the hospital?" Sam pressed. "What are you hunting, Dean? Do you know what it is?"

The pointer began to move again. "R... E... A...P..." Stacey's stomach sank. "Reaper." she breathed. "Dean, is it after you?"

The planchette once again moved to YES.

"If it's here naturally, there's no way to stop it." Sam concluded, and there was a note of panic in his tone. "You can't kill death."

Stacey shook her head slowly. "He's screwed." she whispered.

"No," Sam shook his head, resolute. "There has to be a way. Dad will know what to do." And, without another word he stormed from the room and slammed the door closed behind himself.

Stacey remained where she sat, and slowly she looked around the room. Her brother was in there somewhere, maybe this was her only chance. "I'm sorry, Dean." she murmured, sincere. "For everything." Once again, the planchette began to move, this time without her touch. "S... A... V... E... D... A... D..." she spelled out, and a frown came to her face. "Dad?" she questioned. "What's going on? Dean, what is he planning?" She returned her fingertips to the pointer. "D... E... M... O... N..."

That was enough for Stacey. She stood and bolted from the room. But she was too late. The room was empty, and her father was nowhere to be seen.

"Lauren!" She called over to her friend standing at her desk. "My patient, where did he go?"

"Uh, he said he going to grab a smoke." She frowned. "His discharge paperwork is being processed, I didn't think it was an issue."

"He doesn't smoke." she murmured. But she wasn't sure Lauren heard her. She looked back to the room, helpless. "Where have you gone, Dad?"

There was only one thing left for her to do now, in her mind logic told her that her brother couldn't be saved, but she considered the one fact she had dismissed all along; this was Dean. Her brother was different. He always found a way to beat the odds, he always worked out a way around the impossible. She had to beg. She leaned against the door for a moment, simply watching him breathe, even if, in the back of her mind she knew, it was only by a machine. She crossed the room silently, as though she didn't want to disturb the peace, and she sat down beside him on the bed, holding his hand gently. She wasn't sure why, he couldn't feel it, he wasn't even in there.

"Hey, bro." she whispered. "Look, I know you're around here somewhere, and I think you can hear me... I'm sorry I haven't had a chance to speak to you while you've been here. And I'm sorry there isn't more I can do for you. But, I'm kinda at a loss here, Dean. I've done my part, you need to do yours. You need to wake up." She pulled a hand down her face and wiped away the tears she hadn't realised had fallen. "Remember when we were kids? It was you and me until the end. We were such a team, we thought we were unbeatable... We said we'd go down swinging... Together. I miss you, Dean. I miss how we used to be. So much has changed since the last time we spoke, you don't even understand. You and me, we're fixable. We can make things right again, but you need to wake up."

In that moment, her entire body went cold with a chill than ran through her bones. The hairs on her arms stood on end, and she felt a presence behind her. She turned, but there was nobody there. And, suddenly, she understood the feeling that Sam had described.

"Dean?" She glanced back to his body, and her stomach turned. "I know you're here." Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "And, I know you're probably saying I'm being a girl about this, but, here's the deal... I'm trying my best to stay positive here, but you're not making it easy." Her breath hitched and caught in her throat. "You can't leave me, Dean. Please. Not like this. Not before... I never realised until now how much I really missed you. It's not fair. It's not right. I need you, Dean. You have no idea. Please... Wake up."

For a moment, she allowed herself to believe that he would, and she waited expectantly, as though everything could change. But, deep down, she knew that it wouldn't.

"Stace?" A voice came from behind her. Sam. "Dad wasn't in his room, but I found his journal."

"Hey, do me a favour, Sam?" She stood from the chair. "Stay with Dean. I'm gonna go find Dad. I'm gonna stop this."

"How?" he asked, as though to question what she knew that he didn't.

But she didn't get the chance to answer.

"Doctor Brooks!" A voice yelled from outside the room. "We got incoming."

Sam followed her to the door just in time to see a stretcher being forced through the same double doors his brother and father had just hours earlier. There was a small girl, maybe six or seven, with long blonde hair crying out in pain. Everything that was on his sister's mind seemed to vanish immediately as she rushed towards them.

"Hey, sweetie." she smiled down at the girl warmly. "My name is Doctor Brooks, I'll be taking care of you, is that alright?" The small girl nodded slowly. "Can you tell me your name?"

Her cries halted for a moment. "Emily." she whimpered.

"Emily?" she repeated. "Wow, that's a beautiful name." Her attention turned to the frantic woman beside them. "Are you mom?"

"Yeah," She whispered. "What's wrong with her?"

"That's what we're gonna find out." Stacey assured. "Alright, mom, you're gonna come through with us. Doctor Williams?"

Within seconds, Lauren was beside her, and Sam looked on as between them they ordered tests and shouted out words and abbreviations that he couldn't even begin to interpret. He noticed the difference in how she looked down at the little girl on the stretcher before her. She looked confident, sure of herself. With Dean, she looked terrified, hesitant, unsure of everything. And it was only then that he realized just how much of a responsibility she had to their family. Their brother's life was essentially in her hands. One wrong move and everything could change. She had put so much pressure on herself when it came to treating her own brother that she had scared herself. And, when he truly thought about it, he knew that he wouldn't have been able to hold it together like she had done.

* * *

_Jefferson City, Missouri — Clearwater Valley Hospital — Emergency Room — 08:34am. _

Dean wasn't quite sure what was going on around him. He looked frantically around the hospital room, searching for some kind of answer to the million questions swarming his mind, until his eyes found those of his brother, sitting in the chair beside his bed, confused, relieved, astonished. There was a nurse somewhere behind him, and he was suddenly aware that he couldn't breathe. Something was lodged deep within his throat, and he coughed and spluttered against it.

"Dean!" A firm female voice sounded behind his head. "Breathe for me." He felt the awful sensation of a tube being pulled from his throat, and he coughed harshly against his arm. Air seemed to rush into his lungs, and he breathed desperately, taking in as much as he could. "That's it." The voice encouraged. "Keep breathing. You're alright."

"Doc," Sam frowned up at her. "What's going on? What's happening?"

Dean leaned back against his pillows, slowly calming as his breathing steadied. "Sam?" he choked. "Where—" But everything suddenly came flooding back to him. The demon, the crash, their dad, all of it.

The nurse made herself visible as she moved towards the end of his bed. "It's nice to have you back with us, Dean." she smiled, warm and friendly. "I'll let your doctor know that you're awake. Let's see who you're with." She took the chart from the end of his bed and her eyes scanned it slowly. "Ah, Doctor Brooks. You're in safe hands with her. I'll have her come in and check you over, and hopefully we should be able to get you home as soon as possible."

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah, thanks, Doc." He waited for a long moment until she disappeared through the door and was out of earshot. "Sam, what the hell is going on here?" he pressed. "Where's Dad? Is he alright? What happened to the demon?"

"Uh, Dad's fine." he offered. "The demon... I don't know, it didn't come back. But, uh, there's something else..."

"What?" Dean frowned. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Your doctor... Doctor Brooks..." He paused, as though uncomfortable, he didn't know how his brother would take the news. "It's Stacey, Dean. She's here."

His eyes widened, and all colour seemed to drain from his face. "Stacey? Like... our sister Stacey?" Sam nodded. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me. Of all the hospitals, of all the emergency rooms, of all the doctors, you're telling me I've got her?"

The tone seemed to take Sam by surprise. "You could have done a lot worse, Dean. She's worked her ass of all night for you." he offered. "What's the big problem?"

Dean shook his head. "Hey, I don't doubt that." he countered. "I just... I don't want her near this life, Sam. That demon is still out there somewhere, and we're sitting here like ducks. Does she know?"

"About the demon? Yeah, Dad told her." he stated. "She seems pretty calm about the whole thing. I thought you would have been happy to see her."

"I will be." Dean said. "I just don't know how happy she's going to be to see me." His gaze crossed the room, and he noticed something on the sideboard, moved out of sight. "What the hell is that?"

Sam glanced back over his shoulder and noted the ouija board. He huffed a laugh, because maybe now they could look back and laugh about it. "Uh, we used it to talk to you. Me and Stacey. You were around, Dean. They said you weren't going to wake up, but your spirit was here. You said you were hunting something... A reaper."

"A reaper?" Dean frowned. "I don't remember anything. How did I ditch it?" he asked, because they knew as well as each other, there was no stopping a reaper once it had it's eyes on someone.

"You got me." Sam admitted. "Dean, you really don't remember anything? Nothing at all?"

Dean shook his head, at a loss. "No. Except this pit in my stomach." He sighed. "Sam, something is wrong."

It was then that he noticed the girl standing at the reception desk, talking calmly to a male doctor, and his brow furrowed. It was the first time he had seen her in so long, and she didn't look any different than she had the night he had turned his back on her and walked out of her life for, what he thought would be, the final time.

Sam followed his gaze. "What, you think Stacey had something to do with this? No, man."

Dean's focus didn't leave her. "How do you know?"

"Because I watched her treat you, Dean." he stated. "I watched her resuscitate you. Twice. I saw the look on her face, she didn't think you were gonna wake up. None of us did." There was a long pause, and he contemplated his next words carefully. "Hey, Dean?" His brother looked to him, seeming to sense the confusion in his tone. "Did you know that she was married?"

A small smile crossed Dean's face as he looked back to her. "Yeah, I knew, Sammy." His eyes returned to find his, almost guilty. "I walked her down the aisle."

Sam's eyes widened. "What?" Those words shocked him more than he could have anticipated. "When? How come you never said anything?"

"It was a long time ago, Sam." he offered. "You'd gone off to college, to be honest, I didn't think you'd answer the phone if I had called to tell you. It's not a big deal, really."

"Not a big deal?" Sam shook his head. "You know, I don't understand the two of you. You haven't spoken in years, you've barely mentioned her since I came back, you didn't drag her back into this life when dad went missing, but now you're telling me you gave her away at her wedding, a wedding that you conveniently haven't mentioned at all since I came back. What happened between the two of you?"

"We're not talking about this, Sam." he stopped him, abrupt.

"Yes, we are." he snapped. "I wanna know. I don't understand why it was a choice with her. I never had the choice to come."

Dean sighed. "It's different, Sam."

"Because you didn't speak?" Sam shook his head. "Newsflash, Dean, we didn't speak either. You still came back for me when dad went missing, you still crashed back into my life and dragged me back. Why didn't you make her come back?"

Dean shot him a look, impatient. It wasn't a conversation that he wanted to have again. "We've talked about this before."

"Yeah, and I never got a real answer." he argued. "You told me she'd said no. Well, so did I. But here I am."

"Stacey was different. You don't understand." Dean sighed. "When you left, Sam, you cut us out of your life. I tried to call you, I tried to keep in touch. With Stacey, it was the other way around. I went back for her, Sammy. Before I came to get you. That was the last time I spoke to her."

"Wait, you cut her out of your life?" That didn't make sense. "What the hell happened?"

"Oh, Sam," he huffed in annoyance. "Why does it matter? It's complicated."

"I uprooted my entire life for this, Dean." Sam was getting angry, he wanted answers, and he wasn't about to back down until he got them. "Everything I worked so hard for. What makes her so different? I lost everything for this, but she says no and it didn't matter? I wanna know, Dean."

"What are you, jealous?" he snapped.

"Jealous?" Sam repeated, incredulous. "Of Stacey?"

Dean shook his head, because now he could see it. "You are, aren't you." he concluded. "You're jealous because she got out of the life, and you came back."

"Yeah, maybe I am." He shrugged. "She has a career, she has a real life, I almost had the same thing. How come you didn't force her to come back with you? What the hell made her so special?"

Dean regarded him for a long moment, because once he told him, there was no taking it back. He sighed, and he glanced towards her. "Sam, I showed up at her place that night, I gave her the same speech that I gave to you. I wasn't gonna leave there without her, but..." He shook his head. "She didn't come with me because she was pregnant."

Sam's face paled. "What?"

_Jefferson City, Missouri — Stacey's house — 01:12AM _

_One night had changed Stacey's life for the worst; the night that her happiest secret had cost her the only family she had left. _

_It had started out as a normal, boring night. There had been nothing strange or out of the ordinary about it, and, truthfully, the biggest concern that played on Stacey's mind at that point was whether or not she needed to iron her uniform for work the next day. A small sigh escaped her as she continued to absent mindlessly flick through the pages of the magazine on her lap, she wasn't sure she had read a single word in the hour she had been sitting there. _

_A sharp knocking on the front door of her home dragged her from her thoughts, and she frowned. Who could be knocking on her door at that time of night? And, why? Whether it was down to the years she had spent hunting with her father and brother, or just a general concern for the abnormality of it, she wasn't sure, but something twisted in the pit of her stomach at the sound. Somewhat uneasy, she pushed herself from the sofa and heaved a tired sigh as she pulled her pink dressing gown tighter around herself. There was another knock at the door, this time a little more forceful, as she entered the hallway. As some kind of indication to whoever was outside, she flicked on the light, as though to tell them to be patient. _

_Stacey turned her keys in the back of the door, and the cold air hit her at once as she opened it. But that wasn't what shocked her. What shocked her was the face that stared at her, and, she couldn't help it, a smile formed on her face. "Dean? What are you doing here?" She glanced behind him, and noticed that he appeared to be alone. More than that, he didn't appear to be quite as thrilled to see her. "Are you alright?" she pressed, cautious. _

_Dean nodded, unconvinced. "Yeah, I'm okay." he muttered. "Listen, Stacey, we gotta talk." _

"_Okay." He sounded worried, and she knew, whatever this was, it was serious. "Come inside." _

_Dean followed her lead into her home, and he glanced around slowly as he followed her into the living room. "You've decorated." he observed. "I like it." _

_Stacey crossed her arms over her chest, and moved to sit on the arm of the sofa. "You didn't come all this way to talk about my interior design, Dean." she stated, eyebrows raised. "What's up?"_

_Dean smiled, and he walked further inside. He looked at the photo frames atop the fireplace, and he glanced between them slowly, pausing for a moment at the one of their family. It was old, tattered at the edges, and he knew it had been taken the first day Sam had been brought home from the hospital. Their mother and father sat on the couch, a small boy and girl between them, and a bundle of blue blankets on their small laps. He smiled to himself, and turned back to face her. "Where's the hubby?" he pressed, curious, upbeat. _

"_Working." she stated, blunt. "Dean, what are you doing here? You haven't called in over a week. I've been worried about you." _

"_Yeah, I know. I'm sorry." he muttered. "Uh... look, Stacey. There's something I've gotta tell you." He paused, and she noted how uncomfortable he seemed. Whatever it was, it could only be bad news. "It's dad. He's missing." _

_That brought a frown to her face. "Missing?" She regarded him for a moment, as though trying to decipher what was going on in his head. "What do you mean he's missing?" _

"_Missing. Like, I don't know where he is." He snapped, impatient. "He left me this freaky voicemail and then just vanished off the face of the earth. I can't get a hold of him. Something is wrong, Stacey, I can feel it." _

"_Dean, I don't understand.." There was a concerned frown on her face, because she had a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach that he was going to ask her to go with him, and that meant she would have to tell him why she couldn't. "Why have you come all this way to tell me? Why didn't you call?" _

_Dean shrugged. "I need you to come with me." His eyes pleaded with her. "Stacey, I don't know what to do, alright? I don't know where to look. I need some help." _

"_Dean," She shook her head. "I can't. I have a job, and a husband. I can't just walk out on my life." _

"_I'm not talking forever, Stacey." he countered. "I just need some help to find dad." _

_Stacey sighed. "Look, Dean, it's not that I don't want to help you. I just..." She trailed off, because she knew that she couldn't make him understand. "I just can't." _

"_You can't?" He raised an eyebrow at her. "What does that even mean?"_

_Stacey sighed. "Dean, you don't understand. It's not as simple as it used to be." she offered. "I can't just get a couple of shifts covered and run away for a quick hunt anymore." _

"_And, why not?" he argued. "This is our dad, Stacey. It's important." _

"_I know that. Believe me, I know. But..." She heaved a defeated sigh. "You're not gonna drop this, are you?" she asked, more to herself than to him. It was only then that she pushed herself up from where she leaned against the sofa, and she unfastened the thick robe around her. Immediately, he saw the reason. Her stomach formed a small bump that looked unusual against her otherwise small frame. _

_His eyes were wide, and he looked up to her in shock. "When?" _

"_Four months." she told him, and he heard the guilt behind her words. "Dean, I wish I could help you, but..." She placed a hand to her stomach. "I can't be in that life right now." _

"_No, no, I get it. I'm sorry, Stace." He shook his head. "I shouldn't have come here." _

"_Dean—" _

"_Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, and she heard the hurt in his words. "Stace, we speak nearly every day, why didn't you say something? I thought we were close." _

"_I just... I don't know, Dean." she answered honestly. "It just didn't seem right to tell you over the phone. And then, I wanted to be sure that everything was okay before I said anything..." she trailed off, and she shrugged. "I'm sorry." _

"_What is it?" he asked, glancing back to the small bump. "I mean, do you know?" _

_Stacey smiled. "It's a little girl." _

_Dean found himself smiling at that. "You always wanted a little girl." he mused. "I'm happy for you, Stace. Really." Dean looked solemn, and he knew that she didn't yet understand what this meant. This changed everything. "You keep yourself safe, sis. I need to go." _

_Stacey nodded. "Call me when you find dad." _

_But Dean shook his head slowly. "I can't." There was apology in his words, and his eyes shone with something like loss. "Not when you're... You can't be anything to do with this life, Stacey. You can't be anything to do with me." _

_Stacey's face changed as she realized what he was saying. "Dean—"_

"_No." he stopped her. "You know I'm right here. I'm sorry, Stacey."_

"_So, what? That's it?" she argued. "We don't speak anymore? We're family, Dean." _

"_I know we are. And, I'm sorry. I mean that." He sighed. "But you know this is the way it has to be. Goodbye, sis." _

"_Dean, please." She grabbed a hold of his arm to stop him. "Don't do this. You're the only family I have." _

_Dean looked down at her, and his eyes found hers, tearful and pleading. He held the tops of her arms gently. "Listen to me," His voice was serious. "You raise that little girl right, okay? And," He swallowed hard. "If you ever tell her about me, you tell her that her uncle Dean would have loved her more than anything, just like he did her mom. But you tell her that I'm dead. And you tell your husband the same thing when he comes home." _

_Her face dropped. "Dean," She shook her head. "No. No, I am not doing that. Matt loves you, you're like a brother to him." _

"_Stacey, this is the only way." His voice pleaded with her to understand. "I am not gonna let you end up like mom, I'm not letting Matt end up like dad, and that baby is not growing up without a mother. Not like we did." He brushed a tear from her cheek, and he placed a soft kiss to the top of her head. "Goodbye, Stacey." _

_Stacey opened her mouth to stop him, but she couldn't find the words. Dean turned away from her, and then he was gone. The front door closed behind him, and all she could do was stand there in shock. As far as she knew, that was the last time she would ever see her brother. _

_Present day. _

Dean was aware of how his brother was staring at him, but he dismissed his questions. "Look, we've got bigger things to worry about here. Like why I'm alive."

His eyes returned to Stacey, still standing at the desk. Slowly, she turned to face him, as though she could feel that she was being watched, and he nodded at her, as though to tell her he needed her. He watched as she politely excused herself from their conversation. There was a smile on her face that she just couldn't hide, and he knew in that moment that any anger she held towards him didn't matter anymore. It would come later, he knew that, but, for now, he could see the relief in her eyes that he was awake.

"Hey, Dean." she smiled down at him. "How are you feeling?"

"Stacey?" Dean frowned at her, worried, concerned, fearful. "What's going on?" There was a panic in his words, as though he already assumed that he wasn't going to like the answer.

Stacey glanced between him and the charts in her hands, shaking her head. She was as lost as he was. "There's no explanation for it, Dean." she said, confused. "I mean, the edema has vanished. The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good." Her eyes drifted from him to their brother. "Normally, I'd call it a miracle, but..."

"But we're not a miracle kind of family, right?" he finished for her.

"Right." She nodded. Something in her stomach just wasn't sitting right, and Sam looked too confused to know anything about it. There was only one other explanation. "You know what, I'm gonna go and check on dad."

"No need." A voice appeared behind them, and she turned to see their father standing in the doorway. His eyes drifted towards Dean, and a smile crossed his face, relieved. "How you feeling, dude?"

Dean shrugged. "Fine, I guess." he muttered. "I'm alive."

John nodded. "That's all that matters." He rested a hand to his daughter's shoulder fondly. "You were in good hands."

Stacey turned to him, accusing. "This was nothing to do with me." She stated bluntly. "With anyone here."

Sam seemed to note what she was getting at, and his eyes narrowed, suspicious. "Where were you last night?"

But their father didn't seem concerned by his question. "I had some things to take care of." he answered, blunt.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Well, that's specific."

"Come on, Sam." Dean cut in, calm, rational as he always was when it came to the two of them.

"Did you go after the demon?" Sam pushed, because he wasn't ready to let it go. He didn't believe him. Truthfully, none of them did.

"No." Dad answered flatly.

Sam scoffed. "You know, why don't I believe you right now?"

But John's face softened. "Can we not fight?" he almost pleaded. There was a sadness in his eyes, a tone in his voice, something was definitely up with him. "You know, half the time we're fighting and I don't even know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads." He sighed. "Sammy, I've made some mistakes, but I've always done the best I could." He looked him straight in the face, and there was something about his expression that Sam didn't understand. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen it before. "I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"

Sam frowned, clearly confused. "Dad, are you alright?"

"Yeah," He nodded. "Yeah, I'm just a little tired.. Hey, son, would you, uh, would you mind getting me a cup of coffee?"

"Yeah," Sam answered. "Yeah, sure."

John watched after him sadly, and his attention turned to Stacey, awkwardly fiddling with the stethoscope around her neck. "Stace, could you give us a minute?"

Stacey knew the difference. Her father knew that she would agree to leave the two of them alone, whereas Sam would have questioned it. Their father knew something that he didn't want Sam to be aware of, and, whatever it was, he was about to share it with Dean.

"Sure." she offered. "Uh, Dean, I'm gonna go check where you're at with discharge, yeah?"

Dean nodded. "Thanks, Stace."

Something was very wrong, she could feel it in the pit of her stomach. After what their father had said to her, after wanting to talk to Dean alone, making his peace with Sam... something had happened to him. And it wasn't good. Slowly, she headed towards the reception desk, keeping a clear view of them from where she stood. Her dad leaned over the bed, and she watched cautiously as he whispered something into Dean's ear. Her brother's face visibly paled, and, whatever bomb their father had just dropped on him, it had knocked the words right out of his mouth.

John retreated from the room, and she narrowed her eyes at him as she walked slowly back towards his own. "Hey." she called after him. "I need to talk to you."

Her father stopped in his tracks and turned to face her, he offered a small, unconvincing smile. "What is it?"

Her eyes studied him, almost accusing. "You need to tell me what you've done." He opened his mouth to speak, most likely to dismiss her concerns, but she didn't give him the chance. "Was Sam right? Did you summon that demon?"

"Stacey," He looked like he was about to deny it, but he seemed to think twice about it, stopping and not saying anything else.

"Don't lie to me." she warned, and she took a step closer to him, her voice low. "I know how bad Dean's injuries were. There was no way in hell that he should have woken up. There's absolutely nothing wrong with him, that's not medically possible. You've done something, and I wanna know what. You know, I might have been out of this life, Dad, but Dean, even Sam, they have a right to know."

"Everything is going to be alright, Stacey." he assured. "I promise you."

And then it hit her. Like a punch to the face, it dawned on her.

"You haven't." she breathed. "Oh god, Dad, tell me that wasn't... dad, please..."

He shook his head slowly and leaned down, kissing her forehead gently. "I love you, Stacey." He whispered. "And I'm so proud of you. Take care of your brothers for me."

"Yeah, course." She felt tears building up in her eyes. "I love you, too, Dad."

John turned and walked away from her. She opened her mouth to call after him, to try and stop him, but she couldn't. There was no stopping what had happened. There was no saving him.

She could see it in his eyes as he turned and walked away from her, she knew, that was the last thing he was ever going to say to her. She couldn't physically move as she watched him head off towards his room, everything around her seemed to be moving in slow motion. Sam appeared beside her, a cup of coffee in his hand, and he seemed to think nothing of it as he started after him.

John paused in the doorway of his room, and the cup of coffee slipped from Sam's hand, splashing all over the tiled floor, as he watched his father collapse to the ground.

Stacey's eyes widened, and her stomach twisted. "Crash cart!" Stacey yelled on instinct, and within seconds doctors and nurses were to her aid, barging past Sam.

The sound of commotion was enough to coax Dean from his room, and there was a horrible weight in his chest as though he could no longer breathe.

"Get him on the bed!" Stacey ordered, and the team around her wasted no time in obliging. Her brothers appeared behind her, eyes pleading. "Both of you, back off."

But Dean made an attempt to force his way past. "That's our dad!"

"Trust me, you are not going to like what you see." There was something behind her words that Dean just didn't like, as though she knew something they didn't. "Back off."

Deans eyes pleaded with her. "Do something."

The machine was beeping erratically and Stacey pushed her way through the commotion. "Doctor Brooks." The red haired nurse looked towards her, eyes wide. "He's in V-tach, seventy over thirty, he's crashing."

Stacey's shaking hand found his neck "I can't get a pulse." She glanced to the male doctor across from her, and he nodded.

"Doctor Brooks, start compressions." he instructed. "Give me the paddles, now."

Sam and Dean watched on in horror as their sister began furiously pumping her hands on their father's chest. There was a panicked look on her face, and even they could see how she was forcing back tears.

"We're losing him." The heart monitor behind them gave a long, continuous beep. "Charge to two hundred. Clear!"

"Clear!" Stacey repeated as she pulled back from him, her voice shook with the word. His body jolted through the force, but the machine continued to beep. Her hand once again found his neck. "Still no pulse."

"Resume compressions." The man opposite her instructed. "Milligram of epi. Charge to two hundred. Stay with us. Clear!"

"Clear!" Stacey once again repeated, and she watched desperately as her father's body once again jolted from the bed with electricity. She pushed her fingertips into his neck, and shook her head. "Still no pulse."

Again, she began furiously pressing down on his chest, but the man across from her had stopped shouting out instructions. "Doctor Brooks, stop compressions." But Stacey either didn't hear him or didn't want to hear him. She continued to pump furiously on his chest, tears shining in her eyes. "Doctor Brooks." He tried again, but she gave no indication that she could hear him. "Stacey!" Her eyes rose to find his, and there was an apologetic look on his face. "He's gone."

How was she supposed to stop? The second she did, it was over, she was admitting that he was gone. Her own father. In the back of her mind, it was clear, there was no saving him, because it wasn't a medical issue that had taken him. Stacey knew full well what her father had sacrificed to save Dean, and, somehow, she allowed her hands to slow on his chest.

For a moment; everything went silent in the room. The only noise left was the deafening and steady beep that came from the machine behind them. Stacey took a short step back, her body trembling, and breathed. "I'll call it." she murmured. Her mouth opened and closed, but how could she say the words? The hardest thing she had ever had to say. "Time of death," she glanced to the monitor behind him. "10:04AM."

Dean felt something tighten in his chest. That couldn't mean what he thought. He had to have heard wrong.

Stacey looked between the distraught faces of her brothers, and she offered them a soft, sympathetic nod. It indicated their worst fears. "I'm sorry." She stated, calm, stoic, professional as could be, as though it wasn't her own father in that room.

And, just like that, their entire world stopped turning.

* * *

_Jefferson City, Missouri — Clearwater Valley Hospital — Emergency Room — 10:59am. _

Dean stared absently ahead at the wall, there was nothing going on his his head anymore. He wasn't sure there was anything left to feel in the world. His dad was gone, and it didn't seem real. Nothing around him seemed real anymore.

There was a soft knocking on the door, and he couldn't even manage the energy to turn and see who it was. The door opened when he gave no response, and, from the corner of his eye, he noted that his sister had entered.

Tentative, she approached the bed. "You're free to go." she stated, calm. There was no emotion in her words.

Dean huffed, yet he refused to look at her. "Awesome." he muttered.

Stacey took a short breath and moved around to the other side of his bed. She looked between him and the needles still attached to his arm slowly. "I'm gonna take these out for you, okay?"

Dean gave a short nod. "How are you so calm through all of this?" he asked, almost accusing.

Stacey cleared her throat as she peeled the plaster from over the needle. "You're going to feel a sting."

The needle left his arm, and he barely reacted as she placed some tissue over the tiny wound. "Do they even know we're related?"

"Hold that there for me." she prompted, nodding to her fingertip holding the tissue.

Dean's eyes narrowed, but he did as she said. "Stacey—"

Stacey peeled the back from a small plaster and brushed his hand aside as she placed it over the small bleeding spot in his arm. "All done."

"Stacey." he snapped. "Will you please talk to me."

Stacey sighed, and she looked up to face him. "I'm calm through all this because I gave to be, Dean. No, they don't know we're related because I'd have been banned off the ER if they did. You think they're going to let me treat my own family. It doesn't work like that. I don't know what else to say to you, alright?"

Dean shook his head at her. "You gave up on him, Stacey." he stated, cold. "You made that call."

"Dean, there was nothing more that we could have done. Dad is dead. And, I'm sorry." Her expression faltered for a moment, and he saw there that she wasn't the put together doctor that she was trying to paint herself as. She was hurting. "You don't know how sorry I am."

That's when he saw it. The pain. The guilt. And he had to wonder how she had managed to do what she had. Working on her own father as she attempted to save him, his life in her hands, he couldn't have done it. "No." He stopped her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's not your fault. Stacey, I'm sorry. If this is anyone's fault, it's mine."

Stacey sighed. "No, Dean, it isn't. This isn't anyone's fault. Sometimes, things like this, they happen. Out of our control."

"No, they don't." he countered. "You're a doctor, Stacey. You're not stupid. I saw your face when you saw me awake. I saw your face when dad died. It should have been me. And you know it. So, don't lie to me to make me feel better. Don't you dare. For once, tell me the truth. Why am I alive?"

Stacey shook her head, and she regarded him for a long moment. She couldn't tell him, it would destroy him. "Look, Dean... The odds of you waking up, they were slim to none. That's the truth. But, sometimes people pull through. Even the times we least expect them to. And, sometimes, the healthiest people, the ones you think are in and out, they're the ones that you lose. It's just the way it is." She collected the equipment she had used on his arm and crossed the room to throw it in the trash, her back to him. "Nothing sinister is going on here. It's just life. And sometimes, we can't control it. You should get dressed."

With those words, she crossed the room towards the door, and he knew, if she had her way, she would leave it like that.

"Stace?" He stopped her, and she turned back to face him. "I know you're pissed at me, and I know we're not like we used to be, but... do I get to ask about her?"

Stacey's face changed. "No." she stopped him, abrupt. "No. We're not talking about this."

"Stacey—"

"No." Her voice was firm, unrelenting. "Just, leave it, Dean. Please. Not today."

Dean nodded, because he knew he owed her that much. "Okay, I'm sorry." he agreed. "We're, uh, we're gonna head to Bobby's for a few days, if you wanna come. I mean, you don't have to, but..."

Stacey regarded him for a long moment, and she frowned. They were going to have to burn their father, and she could see from where she stood how much he was already struggling with the idea. Her father had asked one thing of her before he had gone, to ensure that her brother's were alright, to keep them safe, and, no matter what had happened, she knew that she had to honour that. The way they were, it wasn't them, maybe this was their opportunity to fix things. Maybe something good could come of something so devastating. Dean needed her, and, if she were honest with herself, she needed him, more than she wanted to admit.

"Yeah," She nodded. "You know what, I'm gonna get Lauren to finish getting you out of here, let me go home and grab some stuff. I'll meet you back here, okay?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah, thank you, Stacey." He managed a small smile. "Be nice to have you back."

Stacey smiled. "We're family, Dean." she said softly. "There's no changing that."

Maybe this could be their new start. Maybe things could get better for the three of them.

* * *

_Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed. _


	2. Family

_Thank you for reading and reviewing the last chapter. Hope you enjoy this one._

* * *

**Stacey Winchester, MD**

**Chapter Two:**** Family**

_Sioux Falls, South Dakota — Bobby Singer's Home — 09:12AM_

Stacey heaved a worn sigh. People said that it was supposed to get easier, that time healed all wounds. They said that the more time that passed by, as the days turned to months and the months to years, the less it would hurt. But, right now, to her, it all seemed like nothing but nonsense. Getting over the death of a parent, perfect or not, how was anybody ever supposed to believe that it got better? The harsh feeling of pain, loss, grief, guilt; it consumed her. And it wasn't going anywhere soon, that much she knew. The feelings that she simply couldn't shake were just there, persistent and unrelenting, weighing on her small shoulders.

It had only been a couple of days since they had lost their father, she wasn't sure how much healing she could have expected so fast, but she knew that the horrible emotions taking over her life were ones that were pulling her down into a dark place that she couldn't even hope to climb out of. The previous evening they had burned the body of their father, and that had seemed to be when everything had finally sank in for her. Until that moment, she had been numb. And, it had only been then, as she stood in the cold and stared ahead at the fire burning her green eyes, that she had truly realized, this time he really was gone for good.

The night they had lost him, Stacey was convinced that she had been too shocked to comprehend what had happened. She had been the one to call it when he had died, she had pumped furiously against his chest with every ounce of strength within her to try and bring him back. But, in the back of her mind, knowing what he had already done, she had known it was a futile attempt to save someone already doomed. There had been no saving him from the darkness he had been destined for.

The past two days had been nothing but a blur. She couldn't even imagine what was going through the minds of her brothers, because she hadn't spent enough time around them to find out. And, she knew, they had to have worked out by now that she was avoiding being in the same room as them for long enough to strike up some form of conversation. To them, maybe it seemed as though she were being heartless, maybe they assumed that she simply didn't care, but, truthfully, she couldn't bare to look at her elder brother and chance that he would work out what she knew. Stacey wasn't stupid, and her father had all but admitted to her what he had done that night. She had a feeling that they all knew, because, how could they not? Nobody had said a word about it, none of them had brought it up, and she was more than willing to keep it that way.

Stacey wanted to say that it had shocked her, that she was surprised by what he had done, but, when she really sat down and thought his actions through, she wasn't. Despite what Sam thought, or what he said, there had never been a shadow of doubt in her mind that their father had loved them, all of them. In the end, he always came through, even if it took him a few tries. He simply didn't give up. And that was something she had always admired about him. The way that he seemed to just keep on fighting, through anything, all the way to his last day in the world. But to think that their father had actually given up his soul to the one thing he wanted to kill more than anything, to think that he had died to give Dean another shot at life, that he had agreed to end his days with so little hesitation, that was something she imagined not a lot of people in the world would have the courage to do for another person. Especially if they were as aware as their father about where they were headed.

When she thought back to the way he had been at the hospital, she knew that she should have worked it out faster. She should have noticed. It had been strange their father hadn't seemed at all panicked about Dean's condition and the severity of it. When she thought about how soon after they had arrived he had drawn up a list of things he would need to summon the demon, the way he had wanted the colt there with him, needing it as leverage, he'd had it planned all along. A part of her had a horrible feeling that his soul hadn't been the intended package, that he had expected to simply trade the colt for Dean's life and then walk away, but they had wanted something more than that. And, knowing her father, he hadn't cared what the cost was. If it meant that Dean would wake up, she could guess that he hadn't given a second thought to saying yes and ending his own life. She thought back to the way he had been with Sam, to what he had said to her, to him speaking with Dean ensuring that nobody else knew what had been said, he had known all along what he was doing, and there hadn't been the faintest hint of regret on his face when he had turned and walked away down that corridor.

Sometimes, Stacey wished that she could have known her father before the hunting, when he had been with their mother, when they had just been a normal and happy couple. Before the demon, before the fire, before it all went so wrong. In the few photos she had seen from back then, he appeared so different. There wasn't the concerned frown etched into his features, there didn't seem to be the same level of constant alertness or the stance that he was on edge. He had appeared relaxed, happy even. There hadn't been anything for him to worry about back then, no monsters or ghosts or demons, no pain or death or torment. And then, in that one night, that one fire, it had all changed. And he'd become someone else. Someone driven by revenge, needing answers to a question she wasn't even sure that he knew. And, right before he had died, she was sure she had seen more of that person he had once been than ever before. The softness in his voice, the guard let down, the gentle smile on his face, all mixed up with the pain and grief and loss he had experienced throughout his life.

Until that night, Stacey had never truly realized how much her father had meant to her. Even when he hadn't been around, when they had gotten into fights, he had always been there on a hunt when she had needed him, he had been there as a kid when she had called, and, even if he hadn't the past couple of years, it still meant something to her. He had always seemed to have a habit of disappearing, often for weeks at a time, it had been that way throughout their whole childhood. But he always came back to them in the end. He was always alive and home. This time, like a malicious punch to the stomach, it hit her. He wasn't coming home again. He wasn't going to call her again. This time, it was the end.

Not having him around, it didn't feel real. Despite the mistakes he had made, he was still her father. And something told her that, right until the end, he had simply been a man lost in the world since the death of his wife.

Stacey wandered towards the large window of her bedroom, overlooking the large junk-yard owned by their unofficial uncle. The sun was shining brightly in the sky, and she could already feel the warmth of the day through the thin glass. Sometimes, if she opened the window, she could hear the sounds of tools clanging or the banging and crashing of metal as Dean worked to fix the Impala. That was all he had done since they had arrived there. A part of her wondered if it was because the car was the only real thing Dean had left of their father, but she wasn't sure. Because Stacey hadn't been out to see him, and Dean hadn't been up to see her.

Knowing what she did, she couldn't summon up the strength to even look her brother in the eyes. They had driven to Bobby's in complete silence, all lost in their own grief and thoughts of their father. Dean's eyes hadn't left the road ahead, Sam had stared absently out of the window beside him, and Stacey; if they had wanted to they could have easily pretended she wasn't even there.

Sam was trying his best to keep busy, that much she had worked out. She caught the odd few words exchanged between himself and Bobby as they researched. A part of her wasn't sure they were even looking for anything in particular, and maybe they were just doing it to pass by the hours and attempt to ignore the fact that John was gone. But, Sam was always full of questions, and she couldn't bare the thought of him asking if she knew anything more than what she was letting on. The last thing any of them needed was to face the real reason their father wasn't there anymore, especially Dean.

But, Stacey was more than aware, she couldn't hide up there forever. Eventually, she was going to have to face them. The truth was, she had no idea how either of them were dealing with it, and she wasn't being much of a sister to them by hiding away. As much as she wanted to ignore it and sit in hope that it would all go away, she had to face it. She thought back to what her father had said to her at the hospital, mere moments before he had died; _take care of your brothers for me. _That was a promise she had to keep.

Almost tentative, Stacey headed down the stairs quietly, maybe in attempt to not draw any unnecessary attention to herself before she had to. But, her efforts proved pointless. The house was deserted.

"Sam?" she called out, but there was no response. "Bobby?" Again, silence.

Stacey gave a slow shake of her head, and she crossed the room towards the back door of Bobby's home. She paused at the refrigerator and pulled out two beers as she passed. Already, as she stepped out into the sunlight, she could hear the familiar clanging of tools as Dean worked furiously on the Impala. As she approached, she became aware of her brother, and the only part of him that she could see. Both legs were sticking out from beneath his car as he worked on the parts under it, and a soft smile came to her face.

Stacey paused, and she kicked the bottom of his boot gently. "Hey."

Dean rolled out from beneath the Impala, and he brought up a hand to shield the sun from his eyes as he squinted up at her. For a moment, she was sure he was going to tell her to go back inside, to leave her alone, but he didn't. He looked a little surprised to see her, but his expression seemed to soften, and a gentle smile came to his face. "Hey." He sat up a little straighter. His hands and arms were almost black with oil, and his grey t-shirt was stained with grease and sweat. "You alright?"

Stacey offered a nod, unconvinced. "Thought you might want a beer." she offered, and she held one of the bottles out to him.

Dean chuckled, and he wiped his hands off on an old, oil-stained rag. "What is it, like ten in the morning?" he quipped.

"Not quite." she mused, and there was a humor in her tone. "But, I guess if you don't want one, that's fine."

"Uh, not so fast." Dean pushed himself to stand, and he took the bottle from her. "Thanks, sis."

Stacey nodded in acknowledgement, and they each took a long drink of their beers. There was something peaceful about Bobby's home, because it seemed to be the place they all gathered when they needed a break, or they needed some space to think. The only sound came from the birds above them in the sky. There was no breeze in the air, and the sunlight only seemed to be growing warmer as it shone down over them. They stood in silence for a long moment, both lost in their own thoughts.

"Hey, Stace?" Dean looked to her, and something in the pit of her stomach twisted. There was so much sadness in his eyes, a sorrow that she knew all too well. She saw it herself when she looked in the mirror. He looked as though he wanted to say something but he couldn't force out the words.

"I know." She gave a slow nod, and she reached out and took a hold of his free hand. "Me, too."

Dean gave a small sigh, and he looked thankful that they had managed to skip over that conversation. They were both hurting, they were both in the same boat, but they were wired the same way, neither of them liked to talk about their feelings unless they really had to. Neither of them wanted to sit there and cry about it, they didn't want to stop and dwell on their own loss or grief.

With that thought in mind, he set his beer down on the work bench and picked up a wrench. "You still know your way around an engine?" he asked, and he held the rusted tool out towards her.

Stacey quirked an eyebrow. "Are you serious?" She took it from him, hesitant. "Dean, it's been years since I've been under the hood of a car."

Dean huffed a laugh. "Well, that doesn't surprise me." he countered, amused. "What are you driving around in these days, brand new range rover?"

"Hey." Stacey warned. "I didn't come out here to be insulted."

Dean smirked at her, and he held up his hands in defense. "I'm not insulting you, I get it. You're a real soccer mom, right?" There was a fond smile on his face. "Guess a range rover might come in handy when you're doing the school run."

Stacey looked away from him, and she pulled a hand down her face. There was only so long this could go on for. "Look, Dean, there's something I need to tell you—"

"Hey." A voice came from behind them, and they both turned to see Sam walking towards them. There was a soft smile on his face, as though he was unsure of the reception he was about to receive, particularly from his brother. "How's the car coming along?"

Dean shook his head. "Slow."

"Yeah?" Sam sighed, and he looked at the wreckage before him. The Impala seemed to be in worse state than it had been after the crash. What had once been his brother's shiny black pride and joy was nothing more than beaten and broken and a mess. "Need any help?"

"What, you under a hood?" Dean scoffed. "I'll pass."

Sam nodded. Truthfully, he wasn't sure why he had offered. He didn't know the first thing about engines. But he felt as though he had to do something. "You need anything else, then?"

Dean gave a heavy sigh, exasperated. "Stop it, Sam."

But Sam appeared confused by his brother's sudden tone. "Stop what?"

"Stop asking if I need anything. Stop asking if I'm okay." He lowered his tone, and he sighed, because he knew that it wasn't fair to take it out on him. "I'm okay. Really. I promise."

"Alright, Dean, it's just..." Sam opened and closed his mouth, as though unsure he wanted to press his brother further. "Look, ever since we've been here you haven't brought up dad once."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, and there was a long silence. He looked up to his brother, and there was a note of annoyance etched within his features. "You know what, you're right. Come here." Sam simply frowned at him. "I'm gonna lay my head gently on your shoulder. Maybe we can cry, hug, and maybe even slow dance."

"Dean." Stacey warned. "Stop it." But her words fell on deaf ears.

"Don't patronize me, Dean." Sam snapped. "Dad is dead. The colt is gone. And it seems pretty damn likely that the demon is behind all of this, and you're acting like nothing happened."

Dean threw up his hands. "What do you want me to say, huh?" he pushed, exasperated.

"Just... I don't know. Say _something_." he urged. "Hell, say _anything_. Aren't you angry? Don't you want revenge? But all you do is sit out here all day long buried underneath this _damn _car."

Dean pondered his words, but he chose not to rise to his brother's tone. "Revenge, huh?" He nodded. "Sounds good. You got any leads on where the demon is? Making heads or tails of any of dad's research? Because I sure ain't. But, you know, if we do finally find it.. Oh. No, wait. Like you said, the colt is gone. But I'm sure you've figured out another way to kill it." Sam stared at him, but he didn't respond. "We've got nothing, Sam. _Nothing_. Okay? So you know the only thing I _can _do? Is I can work on the car."

Sam looked from him to Stacey, who simply shook her head, at a loss.

"Well, we've got something, alright?" Sam pulled a cell phone from his pocket. "It's what I came out here to tell you both. This is one of dad's old phones. Took me a while, but I cracked his voicemail. Listen to this..."

Reluctant, Dean folded his arms over his chest, and nodded as if to indicate that he had his attention. Sam held out the phone to them, and he pressed the speaker button. "_John, it's Ellen. Again. Look, don't be stubborn. You know I can help you. Call me._"

"That message is four months old." Sam stated, looking between them for some kind of response.

"Dad saved that chick's message for four months?" Dean raised an eyebrow. That was odd. "Who's Ellen? Any mention of her in dad's journal?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "But I ran a trace on her phone number. And I got an address."

For a long moment, Dean looked unsure. He looked from Sam, to Stacey, to his car, and back again. "Alright." he caved. "Ask Bobby if we can use one of his cars."

"Sure." Sam nodded, and he turned and headed back towards the house without another word.

Dean took a long drink of his beer, and he pulled a rough hand down his face. "I'll take you home on the way." he muttered, barely glancing towards his sister as he spoke.

Stacey frowned at him. "What? No." She shook her head, determined. "I'm coming with you."

"The hell you are, Stacey." he warned, and his tone left no room for arguments. "You are not taking a hunt with us. You're out of this life, sis, and it's staying that way."

"You can't do that, Dean." she countered. "I'm your sister. We've just lost our dad, alright? I need my family."

"You have a family. At home." The words came out a little harsher than he had intended, and he saw the shock on her face. "Look, I'm sorry. But, Stace, you gotta understand here, one hunt is never one hunt. Just look at Sam. You've got a husband, you've got a daughter. You can't be in this life. You can't be near it. I'm not risking it."

But she wasn't prepared to back down. There was only one way she could make him understand. "Dean, listen to me. I need to tell you—"

"No." He stopped her. "What are you even doing here, Stacey?"

Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what the hell are you doing here?" He shook his head, more at himself than her. "I should never have brought you here. You should be at home with Matt. With your baby."

Again, she shook her head at him, and tears filled up in her eyes. "Dean, please just—"

"I know. I'm sorry, Stacey." His voice softened, and his green eyes found hers. "I know you don't wanna talk about her with me. I get it. Believe me, I do. I walked out on your life, and that's on me. I got no right to know her. But..." He sighed. "Can I at least know her name?"

"Dean, stop." Her voice was little more than a shaken whisper. "_Please_."

The tears fell from her eyes and fell gently down her cheeks, and Dean shook his head. "I'm gonna take you home." he assured, and he rested a hand to her shoulder. "It's gonna be alright, Stace."

"No." She stopped him, a little too quickly. "It isn't. Dean, you don't get it. You don't understand. I don't wanna go home." Tears fell freely from her eyes, and, this time, she made no effort to hide them. "You think this is about me wanting to go home? You think I'm crying because I wanna go home to her, I can't, Dean. I can't go home to her. I've been trying to tell you since we got here, and you're not listening to me." Her breath caught in her throat. In that moment, she appeared frantic, desperate to make him understand what he had no comprehension of. "I need you to listen to me."

"Hey, hey, hey." Dean pulled her towards him, and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Stacey, I'm listening." But she was too far gone. She was shaking in his arms, sobbing like he hadn't ever heard before. "Stace, what's wrong?"

This was about more than her being away from home, it was about more than them losing their father, that much he could tell. Her shoulders were trembling beneath the strength of his arms, and her body was racked with sobs of pure heartbreak. Shaking hands gripped to the front of his shirt, so hard that her knuckles had turned white, and her head bowed down as she squeezed her eyes closed and tried in vein to force the tears that consumed her away. She couldn't form words, she couldn't think straight. He was missing something big.

Dean pulled back just enough to look at her, and something twisted in the pit of his stomach. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, as though he wanted to say something but his head simply wouldn't allow him to bring the words together. "Stace?" he coaxed, his words soft, gentle. "What's wrong?" It was a dumb question, but he wasn't sure what else to say at that point. He was lost.

Stacey breathed a shaky sigh, and her forehead rested heavily against his chest. "I don't—" Her breath hitched, and she lost her words. "Dean..." The pain in her voice was something he physically felt inside. "She's gone."

The words hit Dean like a punch to the face, and the force of them was enough to knock him back a couple of steps against the side of the Impala. The world around him seemed to stop turning in that moment, and time seemed to come to an abrupt halt. His head was spinning faster than he could control, and his thoughts were racing too fast for him to keep up with them. He tried to think back through every interaction or conversation they'd had since the night she had told him, searching desperately for some small clue he could have missed. He thought back through the times she had tried to tell him something over the past couple of days, and every single time he had shut her down, expecting it to be a conversation he hadn't wanted about their father.

For a long moment, Dean didn't respond. He didn't look as though he had registered her words at all. He tried to form words, but nothing left him, and he simply held her tighter towards him, because, at that point, he was all he could offer. Without even realizing, Dean sank down to the ground with his sister still held in his arms, and her legs folded beneath her as she dropped down to the dusty road. The only thing she could do was cry, something that she hadn't done in so long, and all Dean could do was hold her until she was ready to tell him what had happened.

Gradually, her tears became less erratic, and she seemed to calm. The grip on his shirt loosened, and her trembling hand wiped the tears from her face. "I'm sorry." Her words were little more than a broken whisper, and, it occurred to him, he wasn't sure he knew what she was apologizing for.

"Stacey," he pressed, cautious. "What's happened?" He reached out and gently brushed the tears from her cheek with his thumb.

Stacey shook her head. "My baby..." she whispered. "She came early. Way too early. She wasn't..." Again, she lost her words.

"I'm sorry, Stacey." He pulled her closer towards him once again. "I'm so sorry. Why didn't you tell me? All this time..."

"I couldn't tell you." she murmured. "I couldn't tell anyone. Not until I had to. I was just... lost. You walked out on my life, Dean. How was I supposed to pick up the phone and tell you something like that? I wasn't even sure that you'd pick up. I did what you asked me, I told Matt you were dead. And..." She sighed. "I don't know... I didn't know what to do."

Dean sighed, and he shook his head. How could he not have known? All the time they had been apart, he had imagined what his sister's life had been like. He had worked out when her baby had been due, and he had found himself wondering each day of that month what his sister had been doing; was she giving birth? Was she sitting at home with her baby in her arms? Those thoughts had never left him. When he had woken up in the early hours of the morning, he had wondered if she were awake too, holding her small child and hushing her back into a slumber. When he had seen mothers on the street, he had wondered how his sister was coping with her new life. And, all that time, she had been suffering a loss he hadn't even been aware of. Often, Dean had found comfort in the idea that, whatever was going on in his life, somewhere in the world he had a sister and a niece living a happy life. How wrong he had been.

"We used to be so close." he muttered, more to himself than to her. "There was a time that you would have told me anything."

"I know." She nodded. "But that was a long time ago, Dean. A lot has changed since then. We're not the same people. We're never gonna have that back."

"Maybe we could." he offered. "I mean, when was the last time we had a real conversation? You're my sister, Stace, this, us not speaking, it's not right. And, I know that's on me, I know I made it that way, but, maybe we can fix it."

Stacey huffed a bitter laugh. "You don't get it, Dean." she looked to him, apologetic. "You made me tell Matt that you were dead. I've been living that lie ever since that night. I had to tell him some story of how you died, why we didn't go to your funeral, why dad or Sam never showed up when I'd lost my brother. Matt doesn't know what we know, he doesn't know the life we've lived, I can't just explain it all away and tell him you're suddenly back from the dead."

"What are you saying, Stacey?" he pressed, curious.

"I don't know." she replied, honestly. "It's one or the other, Dean. We all learned a long time ago, you can't have both lives. Dad and Sam proved that. I don't wanna go back to the life where I have to pretend I don't have a family. I don't wanna go back to pretending that you're dead."

Dean had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, almost as though he already knew the choice she had made. "You need to think about this, Stace." he told her, firm. "You need to think about what you're saying. You can't turn your back on your life. You've got a home, a husband, you're a doctor. You've got friends, a whole life."

Stacey nodded. "I know." she mused. "But, really, what's all that without having a family? You and Sam, you're my brothers. I don't want to go home and act like you're not real. I'm _so _tired of it."

Dean frowned. "I thought you were happy, Stace. Both of you, you never seemed anything but happy."

"I am happy, Dean... it's just..." Stacey shrugged, because she was trying to explain something to him that she didn't yet understand herself. "I keep having these thoughts. The first time I remember, I was sitting on my sofa with Matt, I can't even remember what movie we were watching, talking about baby names. And, I remember thinking to myself, maybe this is it. I looked at my rings, at my bump... And, I thought, he loves me, we're gonna have a baby, we're gonna be a family. I've got the guy, the career, the baby, the home, the car... maybe I've made it. I mean, isn't that what everybody in this world wants? They want to think they've got that perfect life that everybody dreams about? But we're not everybody, are we? We're different. That night, if things had been different, I'd have left with you in a heartbeat. I wouldn't have looked back. I love him, Dean, I really do. But, I can't help but think, is this the life I'm supposed to have? Because, I don't think that it is. I feel like I'm pretending, living someone else's dream."

"You can't be serious, Stace." He shook his head. "You don't wanna come back to hunting... do you?"

"How would you feel?" she asked, serious. "I mean, if you were me? Med school was never supposed to be forever, Dean. It was supposed to be a plan B. It was supposed to be an option in case everything in hunting went wrong. It was supposed to be a break. And, suddenly, I found myself married, pregnant, working this job I'd never even imagined. How would you feel?"

Dean thought on her words for a long moment. And he understood. Stacey had been all about hunting before she had left. She had come home to them on every break she'd had to help with research, to assist them on hunts. She had called him or their dad with ideas, with ways to kill whatever they were hunting, and, had they needed her, she had driven across country to help them take something out. He got it, being a doctor had never been the plan. The night she had told him she was going to college, it had hurt, but, he understood, it had never been about an escape. It had been her taking an opportunity that they all knew she wouldn't get again. And then she had found herself in love, however much she had tried to avoid it, she simply hadn't been able to. And she had taken a job that meant she could be close to him. But the hunter within her had never gone away. He remembered, when his father had trusted him to take hunts alone, Stacey had been so fast to swap her shifts or take a few days off to help him. It had been that way until he had shown up that night with the news of their father, when he had turned his back on her and walked away, for what he thought was her own protection.

"I'd feel lost." he admitted. "But, Stace, you've built a life there. Hunting, it's never going to be easy. And, it's never going to end happy. It's never going to be safe. Think about what you're walking away from."

"I have." she concluded. "And, you know, if things had been different between us, I'd have come home the minute I lost my baby. It's not the life I'm supposed to be living, Dean. I'm a hunter. I always have been."

"And, what about Matt?" he pressed, cautious.

Stacey shook her head. "Me and Matt..." She sighed. "We haven't been the same since it happened. I don't know how fixable we are. If we're fixable at all. This isn't some rash decision, Dean. I've thought about this. For a long time. It's what I want. I want my life back, I wanna feel something, I want my family. You and Sam... you gotta know, Dean, you come first. If it really came down to it, I'd always choose the two of you. Everything else, I'll deal with later."

"Okay." Dean resolved. "If that's what you want, Stace. Okay."

"Dean?" Sam's voice rang through the dusty air. "Stacey?"

"You're gonna have to tell him what happened, you know." Dean spoke, his voice soft. "He'll understand."

Stacey nodded. "I know." she murmured.

Sam appeared from the other side of the car, and he looked down at them, curious. "What are you guys—" But he stopped. He noted the look on his brother's face; solemn and lost deep in his own thoughts, his arm wrapped tightly around their sister's shoulders. Stacey; eyes bloodshot and wet eyelashes, her face was blotchy and it was evident that she had been crying. "What's going on?" he asked, cautious.

Stacey shook her head. "C'mere." She gestured for him to sit down. "We need to talk."

Tentative of whatever news they were about to break to him, Sam lowered himself to sit on the ground with them, and he looked between them, curious. "What is it?"

Stacey opened and closed her mouth, because she wasn't sure where to start. Having that conversation with Dean had been difficult enough, she wasn't sure she was ready to have it again.

"Stacey's gonna come with us." Dean spoke, when he realized that his sister wasn't going to.

Sam frowned, and for a moment he looked confused. "You're what?" He shook his head. "Stace, you can't. I know we've been through a lot, but you can't just turn your back on your life. I made that choice, Stacey, and, trust me, there's no going back."

Stacey nodded. "I know." she affirmed. "I don't wanna go back. This is what I want, Sam. I wanna be with my family."

"Think about your daughter here, Stacey." he urged. "What kind of life is this gonna be for her? I know you're hurting, we all are, but—"

"Sam, stop." she spoke, firm. "Listen to me." She paused, and she shook her head. "I don't have a little girl at home, alright? I lost my baby."

"You what?" Sam's face paled, and he stared at her, eyes wide. Everything seemed so surreal. A few days earlier, before they had ended up in that hospital, Sam had no idea what kind of life his sister had been living. In one night, he had found out that his sister was married, and that she had been pregnant. And now, he was learning that she had suffered the most devastating loss imaginable and she was willing to return to the life of hunting. How had everything changed so much, so fast? "Stacey, I'm sorry." His eyes shone with sympathy as he tried to understand the pain she had gone through. It hurt to think that they hadn't been there for her. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I don't know." she muttered. "I wanted to. I wanted to call when it happened. I wanted to tell you both at the hospital, but there was just so much going on. We were all worried about Dean, and then we were grieving dad, and, I just couldn't."

"I've tried to talk her out of it, Sam." Dean told him. "I've told her there's no going back, I've told her everything you're thinking about telling her now. This is what she wants. She's made her decision."

Sam looked to her, and hazel eyes found green. "You're sure?" he pressed, his voice soft. "This is what you want?"

Stacey reached out and took his hand in hers gently. "This is what I want." She looked between her brothers, and she smiled. "I want my family together."

Sam looked towards his brother, and the look on his face promised that he wasn't going to be able to talk her out of it. It assured him that they were going to look after her, that they would keep her safe, and they would help her deal with whatever pain she was still suffering through. They were going to be a family again. And, what more could any of them ask for at a time like that?


	3. On The Road Again

_Thank you for reading the last chapter and for the reviews, I appreciate it so much. _

_Hope you enjoy this chapter. _

**Stacey Winchester, MD**

**Chapter Three: On The Road Again**

_Harvelle__'s Roadhouse — Central Nebraska — 11:23AM_

The stern frown at Dean's brow was so deeply furrowed that Stacey wasn't sure her brother remembered quite how to relax his facial muscles. It proved that he was anything but impressed as he pulled up outside an old, depleted building in a beat-up, lime green, and poorly maintained minivan. It squeaked as he drove, and it seemed to creak louder with every corner he forced it to turn, as though the vehicle itself could feel physical pain and it cried out to come to a final and permanent halt. Something, she assumed, Dean would have been all too happy to comply with. Each sound that it made appeared to only increase the eldest sibling's annoyance with the whole situation, and, had the circumstances been different, she might have found it amusing. He threw it into park and sat back against the uncomfortable and lumpy seat, giving a look of disgust to the old and fraying fabric around him.

"This is humiliating." he muttered, more to himself than to either of his siblings, because they didn't seem to care, and he threw open his door with a loud creak. "I feel like a friggin' soccer mom!"

Sam huffed a laugh, amused, as he and Stacey followed his lead and climbed from the van. "It's the only car Bobby had running." he offered, apologetic, as though that was supposed to make the situation any less painful for him.

"I think it suits you." Stacey observed, and she offered him a bright smile of encouragement.

"I think you better watch your mouth." Dean countered, and he threw her a look of warning simply on principle.

Sam approached the door of the large building before them, and, as he curiously glanced around, it crossed his mind that they seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. The area was quiet, secluded, deserted. It occurred to him that they hadn't seen another person or car for a long while. The air was dusty, and the light breeze did nothing to shield them from the warmth of the sun above. He gave a weak shake of the handle, and shook his head in indication to his siblings that it was locked. He wasn't sure why he had assumed their luck was going to start today.

"Hello?" he called through the thin and dirty glass, but there was no sign of anybody inside. "Anyone here?!"

Dean and Stacey wandered around the edge of the building, but, again, there was no sign of anybody living there.

"Maybe this was a bust." Dean muttered, nonchalant, as he peered through one of the back windows.

She shrugged, unconcerned. "Least it got us out of the house." she quipped, and there was a note of optimism in her words. About what, he wasn't sure.

Stacey raised an eyebrow when he said nothing, because she noted he didn't appear to be at all disheartened by the thought of them chasing a dead lead. She knew, if he had his way, they would head straight back to Bobby's where he could continue to work on the Impala in peace. Away from the subject of their father, and away from the constant concerned stare of his younger brother. Back there, he could grieve for their dad in his own way, without needing to explain himself to anybody. Here, he was only an inch away from being faced with questions and conversations he simply didn't want to engage in.

"Hey," Sam called, and the two of them headed back towards him. "Did you bring the, uh..." He trailed off, and Dean shot him a look as though to say it had been a stupid question. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a lock picking kit, and he almost held it out towards his brother, but he paused.

His eyes wandered towards the girl beside him, and a smirk came to his face. "Show us what you've got, rookie."

Stacey huffed, and she took the kit from him with a look that promised not to expect any miracles. It had been years since she had picked a lock, and, in all honestly, she wasn't sure she remembered where to start. It had been a skill that she had once excelled in, but it was also one that she hadn't needed to rely on in a long time. It occurred to her in that moment, maybe she was more out of the game than she had initially realized. She couldn't remember the last time she had fired a gun, or even loaded one. She struggled to recall the last time she had held a knife for something other than cooking dinner, or the last time she had smelt the bitterness of blood outside of an emergency room.

Dean watched her closely, monitoring her every move, but he remained silent. She crouched until she was eye level with the lock, and there was a concentrated frown set at her perfectly waxed eyebrows. He considered asking if she needed some help, but the sound of a loud click rang through the air, and a smile came to his face.

"Nice job." he mused, and there was a note of pride in his words as he ruffled her brown hair affectionately. "I knew there was still some of that little criminal left in you."

Careful not to make a sound, Sam pushed open the door, and the three of them headed inside. The saloon was quiet, and the only sound was made by a small fly that buzzed around the ceiling. Three sets of eyes followed it as it headed towards a blue light in the corner, and it was zapped with a loud crackle of a bug light. The place was smaller than it had appeared on the outside, yet there was something about it that felt somewhat homely. There was a small bar to their right, and a few tables were scattered around in no particular order. They were clean, dusted, and the faint smell of lemon cleaning products lingered in the air. Someone was taking care of that place. Maybe their journey hadn't been a waste. Towards the back of the room was a large pool table, and atop it was the form of a man, passed out and snoring lightly.

"Hey, buddy?" Sam called towards him. They approached, wary, but the man didn't stir. "I'm guessing that isn't Ellen."

Dean huffed. "Yeah."

Sam gave a slow shake of his head, and he made his way towards the closed door behind the bar before he disappeared through it.

Stacey opened her mouth to say something, but the sound of a loud buzzing within the back pocket of her jeans distracted her. She pulled out her phone, curious, and closed her eyes. The name that flashed up on the screen made something in the pit of her stomach turn, and a fresh wave of guilt and sorrow washed right through her entire body. Without a word, she declined the call and switched off the phone before she returned it to her jeans.

"Still ignoring Matt, huh?" Dean pondered, and he glanced down at her, expectant. "Where does he think you are, Stace?"

"I told him that my dad died. I told him that I needed some space with my family to sort things out. He said he understood." She shrugged, but he didn't miss how the fingers of her right hand instinctively twisted the large diamonds around her third finger. "I really don't know what else I can tell him. It's complicated."

"By time with your family, you mean he thinks you're with Sam and Bobby, right?" he pressed knowingly. "Look, I'm not here to judge, Stacey. But, you can't carry on like this forever. What are you gonna do when he gets sick of calling and he shows up at Bobby's place looking for you? Because he will, sis. Eventually, he's gonna wanna talk to you. And you're gonna have to say something."

Stacey opened her mouth to reply, unsure on what she intended to say, but she didn't get the chance. As she turned to lean against the table behind her, prepared to have this conversation with him if she really had to, her green eyes widened, as did Dean's. He felt something hard press against the middle of his back, and he closed his eyes at the sound of a gun being cocked.

"Oh, god, please let that be a rifle." he breathed, and he looked ahead to his sister. She stood with her hands held up, eyes fixed upon the mystery person behind him who held the weapon.

"No, I'm just real happy to see you." A female voice countered, sarcastic. There was no humor in her tone, and, even without seeing her, he could tell that whoever it was wasn't kidding around. "Don't move, either of you."

"Not moving. Copy that." Dean affirmed. There was a glint in his eyes, as though to say that he knew something neither she or Stacey did. There was a look of urgency in his sister's eyes, a panic as though she was silently asking him what the hell she was supposed to do to help him, but he gave no indication of worry. Instead, he winked at her. "You know... you should know something, miss... when you put a rifle on someone, you don't wanna put it right against their back. Because, it makes it real easy to do," He turned fluidly and grabbed the gun from her, and he cocked it. "_That_."

But Dean's smugness was short lived. Within that same second he had disarmed the mysterious woman before him, her fist collided with his face, and he fell back against his sister. The blonde girl reclaimed her rifle, and it was swiftly pointed back towards them. She didn't appear to be much younger than they were, and her long blonde hair fell gracefully over her shoulders into delicate waves. She was pretty, petite, but there was something fiery about her. Wrapped around her jeans was a small apron, and it indicated they had finally found someone who worked there.

"Sam?!" Dean called out through the hand pressed to his face. "Need some help in here!"

"Sorry, Dean. I can't right now." Sam's voice rang through the empty bar towards them. "I'm a little... tied up."

They glanced towards him as he walked slowly through the door behind the bar. His hands here pressed to his head, and, as a woman followed him through, it was clear why. She held a small pistol, aimed to the back of his skull.

A frown came to her face as she looked from Sam to his siblings, and she glanced between them, curious. "Sam? Dean? Winchester?"

"Yeah." Sam and Dean answered, confused.

"Son of a bitch." she breathed, and her attention turned to the small girl whose arms were looped beneath Dean's from where he had stumbled back against her. "That must make you Stacey."

"Mom, you know these guys?" The blonde girl asked, a frown creased at her brow, as though silently asking her mother whether she should lower her rifle or get a better aim.

"Yeah, I think these are John Winchester's kids." She lowered the gun from the back of Sam's head, and any ounce of anger or wariness in her features dissipated into a laugh. She appeared to be in her forties, with pale skin and red hair. Her face was kind, welcoming, and her smile was suddenly so warm to them. "Hey, I'm Ellen. This is my daughter, Jo." She looked towards Dean, and offered a look of apology. "Let me get you some ice for that."

Jo promptly lowered the gun, and she offered a smile towards Dean and Stacey, somewhat sheepish. "Hey."

"Hey." Dean and Stacey repeated, confused.

Something changed in Stacey's expression, and she narrowed her eyes at the girl before them as she took a step closer. "Do I know you?" she pressed, curious. "I feel like I know you. In fact, I'm sure that I know you."

Jo studied her carefully, and for a long moment she appeared lost. But a look of realization washed through her face, and suddenly she looked terrified. "Yeah, we've met." She nodded. "Missouri. I was in your ER."

Stacey continued to stare at her, and she tried to think through every blonde girl that she had ever met there, puzzled. But then it dawned on her, and she wondered how she could have ever forgotten her. "You're hunters." she resolved. Suddenly, she remembered every little detail of their meeting.

Jo looked away for a moment, and she studied the floorboards beneath her boots. She sighed, as though ashamed. "Please don't mention this to my mom." she pleaded in a hurried whisper as the door behind the bar opened again.

Ellen approached them, and she held out some ice wrapped in a small towel towards Dean. "Thanks." he nodded, and he pressed the cold substance against his throbbing cheek.

"Did you say you'd met before?" Ellen asked, and she looked between Stacey and Jo, curious.

"Oh, uh, no, no." Stacey shook her head, and Jo offered her a look of thanks. "Your daughter just really looks like a girl I went to school with. Long time ago, it's nothing."

"Nicole Brennan?" Dean interjected, and Stacey looked to him, confused. "Yeah, I remember her. She's right, you do look a lot like her." He looked towards Ellen, so confident in his words. "She and Stacey were in the school play together. Before they got thrown out for setting fire to the stage, that is."

"Huh." Ellen narrowed her eyes, but she seemed to buy it from them. Really, what reason did they have to lie to her? "Right."

Stacey found herself smiling, because Dean's talent for effortlessly backing up her lies with a ridiculous story or made up fact was an attribute she had long since forgotten he possessed. He shot her a look, as though to tell her that she would be explaining herself the second they left that place, before he returned his attention to the two women before them.

"So, you called our dad." Dean stated, and he looked towards Ellen as he spoke. "You said you could help. Help with what?"

Ellen frowned, as though the question had surprised her. "Well, with the demon, of course." she replied, upbeat. "I heard he was closing in on it."

Dean was lost. As far as he had known, their father had kept himself to himself when it came to hunting the demon that had killed their mother and destroyed their family. He had never known of anyone else being involved in the one hunt he had never managed to solve. "What, was there an article in Demon Hunters Quarterly that we missed? I mean, who are you? How do you know about all this?"

"Hey," Ellen held up her hands in defense. "I just run a saloon. But hunters have been known to pass though here now and again. Including your dad a long time ago. John was like family once."

"Oh yeah?" His eyebrows raised, as though to say he wasn't sure he believed her. "How come he's never mentioned you before?"

Ellen sighed, and she looked away from the three siblings who watched her intently for a moment. "You'd have to ask him that."

Dean shook his head, and it was clear that his already short patience was wearing thin. "So, why exactly do we need your help?"

Ellen scoffed. "Hey, don't do me any favors." she snapped. "Look, if you don't want my help, fine. Don't let the door smack your ass on the way out. But John wouldn't have sent you if—" But she stopped, and a look of realization drained the colour from her face. "He didn't send you." she concluded, and the look on each of their faces confirmed that. "He's alright, isn't he?"

Dean looked away from her, because it was a question that he just wasn't prepared to answer again. Stacey opened and closed her mouth, unsure of what to say, because talking about the details of her father's death was something that she couldn't force herself to go into yet. And Sam sighed, because it was clear that neither his brother or sister were willing to break the news to them.

"No. No, he isn't." he stated, and there was a sorrow in his words. "It was the demon. We think. It, uh, it just got him before he got it, I guess."

The look on Ellen's face was one of grief, sorrow, pain, loss. Whoever she had been to their father, however she had known him and however long ago it had been, whatever had happened between them to make their dad never want to mention her, it was clear that the news of his death had hit her, hard. "I'm so sorry." she offered, sincere.

"It's okay." Dean muttered, uninterested in hearing anyone else say how sorry they were for their loss. "We're alright."

"Really?" Ellen didn't appear convinced. "I know how close you and your dad were."

"Really, lady. I'm fine." he snapped, and his tone warned her away from pressing him any further.

Stacey shot him a look of disapproval, and she saw him bite back another comment. He took a short breath to compose himself, and he looked away from them. Stacey looked back towards Ellen, and she gave a tight smile, as though to say it was nothing personal from him. "You said you could help us, if you can, we could use all the help we can get right now." she said, honest. As far as she was concerned, they weren't in a position to be turning down help, no matter where it came from.

"Well, we can't." Ellen replied, gesturing between herself and Jo. "But Ash will."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "Ash?" he asked. "Who's Ash?"

A smirk tugged at the corner of Ellen's lips. "Ash!" she bellowed, and her voice echoed around the bar.

The man who had remained passed out on the pool table throughout their entire exchange jolted awake, and he sat up, startled. "What?" he sounded confused, maybe even drunk. "It closin' time?"

Sam looked from him to Ellen, dubious. "That's Ash?"

"Mm-hmm." Jo smiled. "He's a genius."

Dean looked at Sam, and Sam looked towards Stacey, who shrugged. Skeptical as they might have been, they didn't have offers of help coming from anywhere else, what did they have to lose by hearing the guy out? Dean threw up his hands in defeat, and he moved to sit at the bar, as though to say he was ready to listen. Stacey stood beside him, while Sam sat on the stool to his left. Jo busied herself behind the bar and poured each of them a glass of water.

Ash approached them, and Sam reached inside his jacket for a brown folder, one which neither of his siblings had been aware of him carrying. He wore a simple flannel shirt, with the sleeves torn off, and his hair was styled perfectly into a mullet that could have made Billy Cyrus jealous. He looked like a classic rock fan, and, it appeared, he drank like one, too. There was something about him that made him instantly likable.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Dean mused as Ash took a seat beside him. "This guy's no genius. He's a Lynyrd Skynyrd roadie."

Ash chuckled, and he nodded. "I like you." he quipped, amused.

"Just give him a chance." Jo stated, and she threw him a look that promised he wouldn't be disappointed.

"Alright." He opened the folder that Sam had placed on the bar, and he hoped that it would make more sense to the man sitting beside him than it did to him and his siblings. "This is about a years worth of our dad's work. So, uh, let's see what you make of it."

Ash pulled the papers from the folder curiously, and he began to rifle through them. His eyes flickered between the sheets, scanning the words so fast that there was no way he could really be reading them, and he shook his head. "Come on," He sounded surprised, in awe, even. "This crap ain't real. There ain't nobody can track a demon like this."

Sam smiled a little. "Our dad could." he replied, and there was a pride behind his words. One, Dean noted, he had never heard from Sam before where there father had been concerned.

"There are non-parametrics, statistical overviews, prospects and correlations. I mean, _damn_." He looked between the siblings, and he noticed they all appeared as puzzled as each other at his words. "They're signs." he clarified. "Omens. Uh, if you can track 'em, you can track this demon. You know, like crop failures, electrical storms..." He glanced up at Dean. "You ever been struck by lightening? It ain't fun."

Sam frowned. "So, can you track it, or not?"

"Yeah, with this... I think so. But it's gonna take time. Uh, give me..." He trailed off, and for a moment he appeared lost within a deep thought. "Fifty one hours." He rose from his stool to leave, and there was a confidence behind the way he moved.

"Hey, man?" Dean called after him. "I, uh, I dig the haircut."

A smirk came to his face as he ran a hand through his mullet. "All business up front. Party in the back." He nodded, and with a final flick of his hair, he disappeared into the room behind the bar.

As he left, Jo came around the other side of the bar, and her eyes were locked upon Dean. He checked her out tiredly, and he rose from his seat to follow her, he wasn't sure why. In that moment, it seemed the most likely thing for him to do in that situation, and he followed his instincts as though chasing some sense of his former normality.

"Hey, Ellen, what's that?" Sam pressed, curious.

Ellen turned and she followed his gaze towards a brown folder behind the bar. "Oh, I was gonna give it to a friend of mine." she said, and she took it to pass to him. "Take a look, if you want."

There were some newspaper clippings attached to the front, and in red marker; _Couple Murdered, Child Left Alive, Medford, Wisconsin. _

Sam looked towards Stacey, and he raised an eyebrow. "How would you feel about taking a job?" he asked, genuinely curious. His tone left the door wide open for her to decline, and she knew for a fact that, should she choose against it, nothing more would have been said about it.

Stacey nodded. "What have we got?" she asked, and she pulled the folder closer towards herself.

Out of earshot of his siblings, Dean took a seat opposite Jo in a booth by the window. There was a small smile tugging at the corner of her pink lips, and he found himself struggling to force one back. Everything suddenly felt so different. There was a beautiful girl sitting across from him, a glimmer in her eyes and a flirtatious smirk at her mouth, and he just didn't have it within himself to give anything in return.

His gaze traveled towards where Ellen was talking to Sam and Stacey, and he looked back to Jo. "So, how'd your mom get into this stuff, anyway?" he asked, curious.

"From my dad." she answered. "He was a hunter. He passed away."

Dean noted the pain in her eyes at the mention of her father, and, honestly, he understood. "I'm sorry." he stated, genuine, sincere.

But Jo simply shook her head. "It was a long time ago, I was just a kid." She regarded him for a moment, as though unsure of her next comment. "I'm sorry to hear about your dad."

Dean nodded in acknowledgement. "So, you seem to know my sister. What's that about?" he asked. He was curious, but, more than that, it was an attempt to steer the conversation away from the unwelcome subject of his father.

Jo smiled a little. "It's a long story. From a long time ago." Dean raised his eyebrows, as though to say he wanted to know, and she nodded. "Uh, my mom isn't crazy about hunting. For obvious reasons. I mean, she has nothing against those who do it, but, not me. I got to that age where I was curious about my dad, about what happened to him. And, I wanted to be like him. I painted him as some big hero in my own mind. I wanted to do what he did. She didn't like that. I heard about this hunt, some guys were in here talking about it, I wasn't in the best place. I was confused, grieving, so I span her some lie and high-tailed it down to Missouri. Vampires. A lot of them. I was in way over my head."

Dean listened to her carefully. "What happened?"

"They found me before I found them. Couple of them came to the motel room, they had me tied up to a chair, and..." She trailed off, shaking her head. "They were feeding on me. I suppose, it's better than the alternative. I managed to get away, but I was hurt. I left it as long as I could without going to a hospital, until someone found me passed out in a parking lot. Your sister was there when I was brought into the ER, and she saw the bite on my arm. I remember her seeing it, the look on her face, and then I passed out. When I woke up I expected cops, questions, but there was just her. She didn't let anybody else into my room, she just sat there and waited. She asked me if they'd turned me, I said no, and she let me go. No questions, no judgement, she said she understood. She didn't want answers, or an explanation. She didn't want to hound me with questions about what had happened. I don't remember ever being as scared as I was when I woke up there, and she just let me go. She saved me a lot of trouble that night."

Dean quirked a brow. "You never told your mom?"

Jo chuckled. "Would you?"

Dean smiled, and he considered the idea that her mother wasn't someone he'd like to be on the wrong side of. "Yeah, I get that." he huffed a laugh. "So, I guess I got fifty-one hours to kill. Maybe tonight we should, uh..." He trailed off, and he looked up to face her. He sighed, depleted, and shook his head. "You know what, never mind."

Jo frowned. "What?"

"Nothing." There was something inside him that just couldn't go through with it, however much he wanted to. "Just, uh, wrong place, wrong time."

But Jo didn't appear shocked, and she offered him a knowing smile. "You know, I thought you were gonna toss me some cheap pick-up line." Dean chuckled, almost embarrassed. "Most hunters come though that door, think they can get in my pants with some pizza, a six pack, and side one of Zeppelin Four."

"Well..." Dean smiled, and his eyes found hers. "What a bunch of scumbags."

Jo narrowed her eyes. "Not you."

Dean huffed, and he nodded. "I guess not."

"Dean!" Sam called over to him. "Come here, check this out." He threw an apologetic look towards Jo, and he pushed himself to stand before he crossed the bar towards where Sam and Stacey were sitting at the bar. "A few murders that Ellen caught wind of, not far from here." he explained, pushing the folder towards him. "Looks to me like there might be a hunt."

"Yeah?" Dean raised a brow. "So?"

Sam sighed. "So, I told her we'd check it out."

For a moment, Dean looked unsure. He looked as though he wanted to say no, that he was trying to think up some excuse to do anything other than take a hunt. But, it occurred to him, what else did they have to do? He couldn't face the idea of sitting in a motel room for two days waiting to see if Ash could find anything for them, and the less time spent sitting around avoiding talking about their father, the better. Maybe keeping busy was the best thing for them to do.

Dean reached for the folder, and his eyes scanned the research quickly. His eyebrows raised, dubious, and he huffed a laugh. "You've gotta be kidding me. Killer clown?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "He left the daughter unharmed and killed the parents."

"Ripped them to pieces, actually." Stacey interjected. "The family was at this carnival that night." she added, reaching up to point at one of the newspaper clippings.

"Right, the Cooper Carnivals." Sam stated.

Dean still didn't appear convinced. "So, how do you know we're not dealing with some psycho carnie in a clown suit?"

"Well, the cops have no viable leads, and all the employees were tearing down the shop. Alibis all around." he told him. "Plus, this girl said she saw a clown vanish into thin air. Cops are saying trauma, of course."

Dean regarded him for a long moment, and a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Well, I know what you're thinking, Sam. Why did it have to be clowns?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break."

At that, Dean laughed. "You didn't think I'd remember, did you? I mean, come on, you still burst out crying whenever you see Ronald McDonald on the television."

"Well, at least I'm not afraid of flying." he countered, smug.

"Planes crash!" Dean retorted, defensive.

"And, apparently clowns kill." Sam argued.

"Guys." Stacey cut in, looking between them, amused. "Back to the murders." She took the file from Dean and pulled out another couple of news articles, handing them to him. "According to the file, 1981, the Bunker Brothers Circus, same motive. It happened three times, three different locations."

"Huh." Dean looked over it carefully. "It's weird, though. I mean, if it is a spirit, it's usually bound to a specific location, you know, a house, or a town, how is it moving from city to city, carnival to carnival?"

"Cursed object, maybe?" she offered, but she sounded as lost as he did. "Spirit attaches itself to something and the carnival carries it around with them?"

"Great." Sam huffed. "Paranormal scavenger hunt."

"Well, this case was your idea." Dean muttered, and he looked up to him, almost accusing. "By the way, why is that? I mean, you're awfully quick to jump on this job. It's not like you. I thought you were hell bent for leather on the demon hunt."

"I don't know." Sam sighed. "I just think, this job, it's what dad would have wanted us to do."

Dean frowned. "What dad would have wanted?"

"Yeah." Sam raised an eyebrow, as though he didn't see the issue that his brother clearly did. "So?"

But Dean shook his head, because it was something he wasn't going to get into again. "Nothing. Let's hit the road."

Stacey offered Sam a smile of reassurance, because their brother's hot and cold attitude left both of them feeling as though they were walking on eggshells. There was no way to understand what was going on inside his head, because he wouldn't give a single thing away.

Between them, they said their goodbyes to Ellen and Jo, with the promise that they would return once the hunt was over, before they headed out to the car. Dean's mood, once again, hit rock bottom when he was confronted with the sight of the minivan.

"You want me to drive?" Sam offered, as though he assumed it would make him feel any better.

But Dean shook his head. "No. The only thing worse that driving this thing around is being driven around in this thing by you."

Stacey huffed a laugh as she climbed into the back. "Come on, the quicker we get this over with, the quicker we can get you back to your car."

Somehow, that made him feel a little more positive about the whole thing, and he nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

* * *

_Cooper Carnival — Medford, Wisconsin — 04:34PM_

The squeak of the minivan almost certainly announced the Winchester sibling's arrival to the carnival, and Dean couldn't seem to slouch any further down in his seat in attempt to not be seen driving it. As they came to a stop, immediately they were met with a scene not typical of the average fun-fair.

"Check it out," Dean nodded towards a small group of people. "Five-oh." There were a couple of detectives talking to three members of the carnival, all dressed as clowns, and the three of them climbed out of the van to get a better look. "You guys stay here, I'm gonna go see what I can see."

Neither Sam or Stacey had the chance to say a word before their brother stalked off towards the group.

"How are you feeling?" Sam asked her, cautious. "Being back on a case."

Stacey frowned, because, truthfully, she hadn't given it much thought until he had asked. "I'm alright." she replied, sincere.

Sam opened his mouth to say something else, but he quickly closed it again. He pushed his hands further into his pockets as a woman, no taller than three foot, approached him. She was wearing a clown costume, and Stacey could almost feel the nerves radiating from him. The woman came to a stop before them, and her eyes locked with Sam. Her stare bore right into him, and all he could do was stare back at her. Slowly, she took a step closer, before she continued on her way without a word.

Stacey looked to him and raised a brow, and she was sure she could see the faint glisten of sweat at his brow.

"Did you get her number?" Dean's voice broke through his thoughts, and there was an amusement to his tone.

Sam simply scowled at him, as though to say he hadn't seen the funny side. "More murders?" he pressed.

Dean nodded. "Two more last night." he told him, his voice low so to be sure they weren't overheard. "Apparently they were ripped to shreds. And they had a little body with them."

"Who fingered a clown." Sam remarked, blunt.

Dean paused, and he turned to him, perplexed by the comment. "Yes. Sam. A clown. Who, apparently, vanished into thin air."

"Dean," Sam sighed. "You know, looking for a cursed object is like trying to find a needle in a stack of needles. They could be anything."

"Well, it's bound to give off EMF, right?" Stacey suggested. "Maybe we just have to scan everything."

"Oh, good," Sam huffed. "That's nice and... inconspicuous."

Dean's eyes scanned the carnival, looking for some kind of plan to jump out at him, before his gaze settled on a sign in the distance. _Help Wanted. S. Cooper. _

"I guess we'll just have to blend in, won't we?" he muttered, nodding towards the sign. "Come on."

Dean marched them towards the first tent they could find, and together they entered. There was a man in a suit throwing daggers at a large target, with scary accuracy. Each one of them landed effortlessly in the bulls-eye.

"Excuse me, we're looking for a Mr Cooper," Dean stated. "Have you seen him around?"

The man on the stage scoffed. "What is that, some kind of joke?" he asked, annoyed. Slowly, he turned, and he removed the sunglasses from his face. His eyes were clear and white, and Dean visibly cringed.

"Oh, god," He shook his head. "I'm—I'm sorry. I—"

"You think I wouldn't give my eye-teeth to see Mr Cooper?" he continued. "Or a sunset, or anything at all?"

Dean glanced towards his brother and sister, helpless. "You wanna give me a little help here?" he asked quietly.

Sam shook his head. "No, not really."

Stacey offered him a thumbs up. "You got this, bro."

"Hey, is there a problem here?!" An angry voice came from behind them, and Dean turned to see a short man in a red cape standing in the entrance to the tent. There was a metal bar in his left hand, and he didn't appear afraid of using it.

"Yeah," The man on the stage gestured towards where Dean was standing. "This guy hates blind people."

"No, I don't." Dean stated, defensive. "I—it's just a little misunderstanding."

The short man's eyes widened. "_Little_?!" He raised the metal bar in his hand towards Dean. "You son of a bitch!"

"No, no, no, no!" Dean held up his hands, flustered, and the fact that his brother and sister were doubled over laughing behind him wasn't helping his case. "I'm just... I... could somebody just tell me where Mr Cooper is?! _Please_?!"

"Dean," Stacey called, and he looked towards her. "Through there."

Dean frowned, and he looked through the gap in the tent to a small trailer. Outside, there was a small piece of paper taped to the door, written on it was Mr Cooper. "You're both dead." he muttered, before he stalked past them.

Sam and Stacey shared a smirk between themselves before they followed his lead. Dean came to a stop outside and banged on the closed door with the side of his fist. There was the sound of movement inside, someone muttering under their breath, before the door swung open.

An old man frowned down at them, as though asking why they hadn't already explained why there were there. "Yeah?"

"Uh, hi." Dean offered a smile. "I'm Dean, this is Sam, and Stacey. We're here about the jobs."

For a moment, he was sure that he was going to slam the door in their faces, but he narrowed his eyes, curious. "Come in." The three of them followed his lead into the small trailer. It was cramped, with odd objects everywhere they turned. There was a small desk littered with papers in the middle. "Well, you kids picked a hell of a time to join up." Mr Cooper stated, and he sat down at his desk. "Take a seat."

Dean glanced down at the three available chairs opposite him; two were normal, the other was pink with a large clown's face painted on it. He knew his brother hadn't yet noticed, and a smirk came to his face. He shoved Stacey down onto one of the normal chairs, and, as he saw the colour drain from Sam's face as he realized, he beat him to the other one. Sam scowled at him before he gingerly lowered himself to sit on the only available seat left, fidgeting and uncomfortable.

"We've got all kinds of local trouble." he continued, as though he hadn't even noticed their antics.

Dean frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, a couple of folks got themselves murdered." he muttered, as though it was something that didn't concern him in the slightest. "Cops always seem to start here first. So, you three ever worked the circuit before?"

"Uh, yes, sir." Sam lied. "Last year through Texas and Arkansas."

Dean and Stacey gave an enthusiastic nod as though to back up his story.

"Doing what?" he pressed, curious. "Ride Jockies? Butcher? ANS?"

"Yeah, it's, uh, little bit of everything." he muttered, unsure. "I guess."

Mr Cooper looked between them, and he nodded. "You three have never worked a show in your lives, have you?"

Dean sighed, defeated, and he held up his hands in defeat. "No." he admitted. "But we really need the work. Oh, and, uh, Sam here's got a thing for the bearded lady."

Sam shot him a look, as though to tell him he was anything but funny.

"You see that picture?" Mr Cooper pointed towards an old photograph towards the side of his office, hanging on the wall. "That's my daddy."

Sam narrowed his eyes at the picture, and then looked back to him. "You look just like him." he observed. They were identical.

"He was in the business." he told them, and there was a pride behind his words. "Ran a freak-show. 'Til they outlawed them, most places. Apparently displaying the deformed for entertainment isn't dignified."

Stacey scoffed. "Imagine that." she muttered.

Mr Cooper shot her a look. "So, most of the performers went from honest work to rotting in hospitals and asylums. That's progress, I guess. You see, this place, it's a refuge for outcasts. Always has been. For folks that don't fit in nowhere else. But, you three? You should go to school. Find yourselves a nice partner. Have two point five kids. Live normal."

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but he didn't get the chance. Sam leaned forwards, and his eyes locked with the man opposite him. "Sir? We don't want to go to school." he stated, blunt, serious. "And we don't want regular. We want this."

Mr Cooper looked between the three of them one last time, and he sat back in his seat with a sigh. "Fine." he caved. "Whatever. You're on a weeks trail. Unpaid. Go round the back and get yourselves a uniform. Any trouble..."

"No trouble." Sam assured. "We won't let you down, sir."

Mr Cooper nodded, and he waved them off without another word.

The three of them headed out of the trailer, and into the back room where they found a row of red jackets hanging neatly on a rail. Dean pulled one off and tossed it towards his sister, before grabbing one for himself.

"I'd forgotten about the god-awful costumes." she remarked as she pulled up the zip. "I smell like a popcorn machine."

"Could be worse," Sam muttered, hesitantly sniffing at his own uniform. "I smell like some kid's puke."

Dean cleared his throat, and he looked towards him. "That whole, uh, I don't wanna go back to school thing, were you just saying that to Cooper, or were you, you know, saying it?" Sam said nothing, just continued on his way towards the exit of the tent. "Sam?"

Sam sighed, and he blinked away the brightness of the sunlight. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Dean pressed, skeptical. "I thought once the demon was dead and the fat lady sings that you were gonna take off, head back to Wussy State."

Sam shrugged. "I'm having second thoughts."

Dean appeared dubious, and he raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

"Yeah," Sam admitted. "I think dad would have wanted me to stick with the job."

"Since when do you give a damn what dad wanted?" Dean retorted, a little harsher than he had intended. "You spent half your life doing exactly what he didn't want, Sam."

"Since he died, okay?" he snapped. "Do you have a problem with that?"

Dean regarded him for a long moment, and he seemed to bite back a comment. "No." he replied, blunt. "I don't have a problem, at all."

With that, Dean turned and walked away without another word, and Sam dropped down to sit on a bench behind him. He rested his head against his palms, and he released a long sigh. He already knew everything that Dean wanted to say to him but wouldn't. And it left him feeling guilty, confused, and hurting.

Someone sat down on the bench beside him, and he glanced up towards his sister.

"You know, ever since we left the Roadhouse, you've looked like you're thinking way too hard about something." she mused, upbeat and cheerful. "What's on your mind, kid?"

Sam opened and closed his mouth, because, honestly, he wasn't sure where to start. Since they had lost their father he had found himself swamped with thoughts about everything. But, one thing seemed to stand out above the rest. _Her_. His concern for his sister was growing by the minute, because he simply didn't understand what was going on inside her head. He couldn't comprehend the decision she was making, and he wasn't sure that she could, either.

"Stacey, are you sure this is what you want?" he asked her, almost hesitant, as though he assumed it to be a delicate situation to approach with her. It hadn't been spoken about since they had left Bobby's, and he could only imagine that now, being stuck in the middle of a hunt, she was starting to wonder what the hell she was doing. He considered the idea that maybe she was there out of obligation, that she didn't want to leave them so soon after they had lost their dad. He had toyed with the idea that she was lost, grieving for their father and the daughter she had lost and she simply hadn't known what else to do. But, why was he speculating so much when she was sitting right beside him, not appearing to be trying to hide a thing. "I mean, what you're walking away from, it's a big decision."

Stacey nodded in agreement, and she looked out ahead at the many people around them, enjoying time with their families, their friends, not a care in the world or a single thought or knowledge towards the darkness that they were all caught in the middle of at that carnival. She sighed, and she returned her gaze to him. "I know." she admitted. "And, I'm not pretending that it's going to be easy, Sam. I'm not under some illusion that anything is ever going to be simple for me again, but... I don't know." She threw him a knowing look. "You don't agree with what I'm doing, do you?"

"It's not about whether I agree, Stacey." he replied, nonchalant. "This is your choice. I just..." He trailed off, and he shook his head. "I guess, I just don't understand. You have a choice. Why choose this life over that?"

"Sam, why does this bother you so much?" she asked, curious, because it seemed to bother him a lot more than it bothered Dean. "I know you and I haven't been perfect for a long time, but we used to be so close. We were a team, Sammy. You and me and Dean. Why can't we be like that again? Why is it such a bad thing that I wanna come back to my family?"

Sam sighed. "I'm just worried about you." he stated, genuine. "Look, I know it's different, but I almost had what you've got, Stace. I almost had the career, the girl, the family, the home, all of it. And, if I could go back, I don't know what I'd do. If I hadn't lost Jess that night, if I hadn't left her... who knows? Maybe I wouldn't be here. Maybe I'd have that life now. And, I'm not sure it's something I could walk away from."

"This is different, Sam." she murmured. "It's _so _different, can't you see that? I'm sorry about your girlfriend, I really am. You didn't deserve to go through that. And, it shouldn't have happened. But, Matt and I..." She sighed deeply. "We weren't you and Jess. Maybe that's the point. Maybe that's the difference. You didn't choose to lose her, Sam. And, I'll bet you'd give anything to have her back. I walked away from him. I didn't even question it. How is that the sign of a healthy relationship? I love him, I do. But, we're not what we used to be. After everything, I don't think things were ever going to be the same again. I'm not sure I want them to be."

Sam regarded her for a long moment, and he thought carefully on her words. "You know, all this time, I thought everything was so perfect for you. From the minute I came back to the life, when I lost everything, I was jealous, Stacey." he said, and he almost sounded ashamed of himself. "That night at the hospital, when I found out you were married, when Dean told me that you'd been pregnant, before I knew what had happened... I asked myself why I never got that life. I thought you had everything I thought I wanted."

"Sam, nobody has a perfect life." she countered. "Matt and I, we were happy, I'm never going to pretend that we weren't, but some things just aren't meant to last forever. That's just how it is. I was kid when I met him, I've changed. He's changed."

"You don't know that it couldn't last forever." he pondered. "What if you went home to him tomorrow? What if you pretended none of this had happened? Five years from now, Stacey, you could still be happily married, you could have a baby, a family..."

"I have a family, Sam." she stopped him, blunt. "_You _are my family. Dean is my family. The two of you, this life, before I met Matt, it was all I'd ever known. And, you know something, I was happy. I was happy before I met him, and I'll be happy after he's gone. I don't want that life anymore, I don't wanna keep pretending that I'm somebody else. This, hunting, it's all I ever wanted when I was a teenager, it was the only thing I ever saw myself doing." She paused, and she thought on her words for a moment. "You know what I think the difference is between you and me? I got a choice, Sam. You didn't."

Sam frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Sam, when I left home, when I told dad that I wanted to go to college, he didn't bat an eyelid. You know why?" He looked to her, and he gave a slow shake of his head. "It was because I told him that I'd stick with the life, that I'd still take hunts with them when I could. He called me all the time while I was at college because he didn't have time to research on the road, or because there was a hunt closer to me and he wanted to have a head start before he and Dean showed up." She sighed, almost apologetic. "It wasn't fair what he did to you. When you left, everything exploded. It was fighting and arguments and he pushed you too far. Do you know why that was?" Sam shook his head again. "Because he was terrified of losing you."

"Stacey..." Sam looked down at his lap.

"It's true, Sam." she pushed. "I never stood up to our dad. You did. And that's what he didn't like. That's why it all ended the way it did. I stuck with the life because it was easier to do both. I never told him that I didn't want to be a hunter, so he thought that when I went away to college, I'd come running back and get right back on the demon trail with him. With you, he thought it was an escape from him, the life, from finding the thing that killed mom. He knew that you didn't wanna come back to the life, and that's why he pushed you away like he did. It wasn't right, and it wasn't fair, but it's true. Dad knew when I left that I'd come back, with you, he knew that you wouldn't."

"I never thought about it like that." he murmured.

"I never forgave dad for how he treated you, Sam. Dean called me that night, he told me what happened, that you'd gone, what dad said to you, what you said to dad," She huffed a laugh. "I spoke to him that night, I told him what I thought, and he didn't show his face again for weeks. If there was a hunt nearby, he'd send Dean, because, honestly, I think he was ashamed he'd let things go so far. You knew him, Sam, as well as I did, he was too proud to come chasing you to apologise and admit he was wrong." She looked to him, and she smiled. "But I do know something else. If he was nearby, he'd come and see you. He'd make sure that you were safe, that you were happy. If he was in California, he'd always come and check on you."

Sam frowned at her. "How do you know that?" he asked, because, honestly, he wasn't sure he believed her.

"I just do, Sam." she affirmed, and there was a confidence behind her words. "Ask Dean, it's true. Dad never stopped loving you, Sam. And he never stopped being proud of you, whether you were a hunter or not. That much I do know."

Sam sighed. "Stacey, are you happy?" he asked, sincere. "I just want you to be happy. I don't want to see you stuck back in this life. You could have so much more."

"I'm happy, Sam." she assured, and there wasn't a hint of doubt in her words. "Being with you and Dean makes me happy. Having my family back makes me happy." She reached out and gave his hand a soft squeeze. "Stop worrying about me, alright? I'm fine."

Sam nodded, as if to say that he was willing to take that from her. "Okay."

"And, you know something else, Sam?" She shifted a little on the bench to face him properly. "I know that you're grieving for dad, and I know that you're trying to do what you think he'd want, I understand that. But, don't let it go too far. If this life isn't what you want, Sam, you need to get out, before it's too late. If you wanna go back to college, if you want that life back, you need to go for it. No one's gonna hold it against you."

Sam regarded her for a long moment, because it had been a long, long time since somebody had encouraged him to consider returning to college. Truthfully, he wasn't sure what he wanted anymore. He wasn't sure he could even remember how to live normally. Maybe it was something he had to think about. He looked to her, and he smiled. "Thanks, Stace." he murmured, sincere.

Stacey opened her mouth to reply, but something stopped her. She felt something soft hit the side of her boot, and she looked down to see a small, red ball at her feet. There was a little girl running towards them, her brown hair swaying in the breeze. "Sorry, miss." she said, and there was a bright smile on her face.

"Don't worry about it, sweetie." Stacey smiled as she picked up the ball and handed it to her.

Without another word, the girl ran back to her waiting mother, who offered a tight smile towards her and Sam. They watched them in silence for a moment.

"Hey, Mommy, look!" The little girl shouted brightly, pointing at something in the distance. "A clown!"

The girl's mother frowned, and she appeared confused. "What clown?" But she seemed to brush off any concern she had. "Come on, it's time to go home."

Sam and Stacey shared a look. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" she asked.

"Yeah." Sam nodded. "We need to find Dean."

* * *

_Minivan — Wickliffe Road — Medford, Wisconsin — 05:54 AM._

Stacey rubbed at her tired eyes, and she took a long drink of her now lukewarm coffee. It turned out, whether her occupation was hunting or medicine, she just wasn't cut out for working the night shift. She stretched out her legs across the back seat of the minivan with a groan, and she heard a small crack as her muscles relaxed. The only sound in the car was the slow and steady breathing of Dean as he dozed lightly in the driver's seat. Her gaze wandered towards where Sam sat beside him, staring absently towards the house they were watching, and she frowned as she thought back to their earlier conversation. Something had occurred to her in that few hours they had sat and waited for any sign of danger towards the family sleeping inside their home; she didn't know anything about her younger sibling anymore. And that hurt.

After she had left home, she had stayed in contact with both of her brothers. But she had never seen Sam. Her father and Dean had called her regularly with a nearby hunt they had wanted her to join them on, but Sam was never with them. Dean's answer was simple, each time she had asked, he was back at the motel working on something for school. Now, she knew, he was applying to colleges and plotting his escape from that life. The thought that she hadn't been there for him when he had needed someone to understand, when he had craved for someone to listen and encourage him to follow his dreams, pained her. And she blamed herself for the way things had turned out between him and their father.

Stacey knew, had Sam taken the same approach as her when he had left, had he told their father he intended to come back to hunting, that he would continue to look for leads on the demon while he was away and that he would join them for a hunt when he could, it would have ended very differently. Maybe their entire family wouldn't have been ripped apart that night. Perhaps her brothers wouldn't have ended up being little more than strangers for almost four years.

Maybe, if things hadn't ended the way they had, she and Sam wouldn't have ended up strangers. From the night that Sam had left for college, Stacey hadn't heard from or spoken to her brother until the night they had shown up at the hospital. With Dean, she had spoken to him almost every day until he had walked out of her life, but never Sam.

Now, that seemed like another lifetime ago.

"Hey, Sam?" Her voice was soft, so not to disturb their brother. "Can I ask you something?"

Sam glanced back to her, and the hesitance in her voice seemed to confuse him. "Sure."

Stacey thought on her words for a moment, and she considered the idea that maybe what she was about to ask was insensitive. "What was she like?" she asked, curious, but he didn't appear to be following. "Jess." she clarified. "I mean, I don't know anything about your life since I left for college. The last time I really knew anything about you was when you were sixteen."

Sam was silent for a long moment, and he appeared to be lost in his own thoughts. "Uh," He shook his head, and he shifted in his seat to face her. "She was kind. She was patient. She was really funny. Just, one of those girls, you know, everybody loved her. She wanted to be a nurse, that's what she was studying at college. She just wanted to help people, to make people happy."

Stacey found herself smiling at the thought. "How did you meet her?"

"I, uh, I had a friend, Brady." He furrowed his brow, because it had been a long time since he had thought about the man he had once been so close to. "He introduced us. He said he just knew that we'd hit it off, so I asked her out for a coffee." He sighed deeply, and a soft smile came to his face. "That night, the night that Dean came back for me, we'd been to a Halloween party. She went as a nurse, and I remember, when I saw her outfit, she was so excited that one day she'd have a real nurses uniform. You would have loved her, Stacey. She would have loved you. I wish you could have met her."

There was a sorrowful look in her eyes as she listened, and her heart broke at the thought of something so dark happening to her brother while she was sitting at home with no idea he had even returned to the life. "I'm sorry I wasn't here." she replied, sincere.

But Sam shook his head. "It's not your fault, Stacey." he assured. "Dean cut you out. How were you supposed to know?"

Stacey shrugged. "I don't know, Sam." she sighed. "Do you ever just think about how messed up this family really is? I mean, something tragic happens and people turn to their families for support, that's when everyone comes together, but... us? We're the opposite. We don't tell each other, we don't even think about telling each other."

"Yeah, we're pretty messed up." he agreed, glum. "Or, maybe not so much anymore. When was the last time the three of us spent this much time together? Maybe things can change. Maybe you were right, maybe we can be a family again."

Stacey opened her mouth to answer, but she quickly closed it again.

Dean stirred slightly, and he pulled a rough hand down his face. "What's going on?" he mumbled, his words thick with sleep.

Stacey glanced towards him, and she huffed a laugh at his appearance. He looked tired, confused, and as though he would love nothing more than to crawl into bed and go back to sleep. "Nothing." she said quietly. "No sign of any murderous clowns yet."

"About that," Sam looked towards his brother, incredulous. "Dean, I cannot believe you told Papazian about the homicidal phantom clown."

Dean raised an eyebrow, as though to say that he didn't see an issue. "No. I told him an _urban legend _about a homicidal phantom clown. I never said that it was real."

He reached down for his gun, and he brought it up to his lap. Sam's eyes widened, and he reached out to push it back down.

"Dude, put that down!" he scolded.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Oh, and get this." he continued as though Sam hadn't interrupted. "I mentioned the Bunker Brothers Circus in eighty-one and their evil clown apocalypse. Before Mr Cooper owned Cooper Carnivals, he worked for Bunker Brothers. He was their lot manager."

Stacey raised a brow at him. "So, what? You think whatever the spirit is attached to, Cooper just brought it with him?"

"Something like that." Dean shrugged, and he shook his head in disbelief. "Man, I can't believe we keep talking about clowns."

"Hey." Stacey sat up a little straighter behind them, and she leaned closer to the window. "Check it out."

A light was switched on at the house, and it illuminated the dining room onto the dark street. The small girl they had seen at the carnival crossed the room towards the front door, and she disappeared from sight. Without a second thought, the three of them bolted from the minivan and raced across the street towards the house.

Dean opened the front door to the house, and the three of them entered in silence. A floorboard creaked above them, and they nodded between each other. Without making a sound, they headed up the stairs, Dean in front and gun aimed, ready to shoot anything that moved. They paused behind a wall before the hallway, and footsteps approached.

"You wanna see mommy and daddy?" A little girl's voice asked, innocent and unafraid.

Stacey glanced around the corner of the wall, and she looked on at the small girl from the fair. She held the hand of a man in a clown costume, and his face was painted with white and red paint. She was starting to understand why Sam found them to be so creepy.

As they came closer, Sam and Dean nodded between each other, and they moved. Sam swept up the little girl in his arms and shielded her as gunshots rang through the air. The clown hit the ground with a thud, and the only sound in the house was the high-pitched screams of the little girl in Sam's arms. Dean and Stacey shared a look of confusion as the clown simply lay there on the floor, motionless. But, as Dean cocked his gun once more, his head lifted from the soft carpet, and he offered a sickening smile. He raised the gun to shoot him once again, but the clown vanished before their eyes. A window at the end of the hallway smashed, and a plant was knocked over by an invisible force as something invisible ran away through the garden.

A bedroom door was slammed open behind them, and the little girls parents looked on at them in horror.

"What are you doing to my daughter?!" The woman screamed towards Sam. "Get out of my house!"

The girls father looked murderous, and he appeared prepared to attack.

"Mommy! Daddy!" The young girl cried. "They shot my clown!"

The parents looked lost, confused, but the Winchester siblings didn't stick around to answer their questions. Without waiting to see what would happen, they bolted back down the stairs and straight back towards their waiting car. Without a word, Dean turned the keys in the ignition and the tyres screeched against the tarmac as he sped away.

* * *

_Minivan — Medford, Wisconsin — 07:04 AM._

Dean didn't stop driving for anything. There was a determined frown fixed upon his face to get them as far away from that house and those murderous parents as he possibly could before any police could catch up to them. He drove in the direction of the carnival, far enough that they wouldn't have too much of a distance to walk, but far enough away that they could safely ditch the car and never look back at it. He pulled off into a small side road, thick with trees and foliage, somewhere that a car wouldn't be seen by somebody driving past.

"Come on," he instructed, before he opened his own door. "Get your stuff."

Between them, they grabbed their bags and anything that could be used to trace the minivan back to them. Dean removed the licence plates from the front and back, and he shoved them deep within his duffel bag.

Sam raised a brow. "You really think they saw our plates?"

"I don't want to take the chance." he muttered. "Besides, I hate this friggin' thing, anyway." He slammed the trunk closed, and the three of them set off walking down the road. It was quiet, secluded, and there was nothing but trees and fields to their left and right. "Well, wasn't a complete bust." Dean stated, a little more optimistic. "We know we're not dealing with a spirit. I mean, that rock salt hit something solid."

"Yeah. So, a person?" Stacey suggested. "Or just a creature that can make itself invisible? And, for some reason, dresses up as a clown for kicks?"

Dean pondered on her words, and he looked to his brother. "You see anything in dad's journal?"

Sam shook his head. "Nope." he muttered. "Nothing."

He pulled out his phone, and Dean raised a brow. "Who are you calling?" he asked, curious.

"Maybe Ellen or that guy Ash will know something." he suggested. He scrolled through his contact list, and his thumb hovered over the call button for a moment. "Hey, you think, uh... you think dad and Ellen ever had a thing?"

Dean shook his head, as though the idea was ridiculous. "No way."

Sam shrugged. "Then why didn't he tell us about her?"

"I don't know," Dean mumbled, uninterested. It was clear that he didn't want to discuss it. "Maybe they had a falling out."

"Yeah," Sam huffed a brief laugh. "You ever notice Dad seemed to have a falling out with just about everybody?" Dean simply nodded, nonchalant, but gave no reaction, and Sam lowered the phone from his ear. "Come on, don't get all maudlin on me, man."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Sam huffed in annoyance. "I mean, this strong silent thing of yours. It's crap."

Dean shook his head. "Oh god, Sam, leave it alone."

"I'm over it." he snapped. "This isn't just anyone we're talking about here. This is _dad_. I know how you felt about the man."

"You know what,_ back off_, alright?" Dean chided, and it was clear the subject was irritating him more and more each time it was brought up with him. "Just because I'm not caring and sharing like you want me to—"

"No, no, no. That's _not _what this is about, Dean." Sam countered. "I don't care how you deal with this, but you _have _to deal with it, man." Dean said nothing, simply shook his head and continued walking, his eyes fixed upon the dusty road at his feet. "Listen, I'm your brother, alright? I just want to make sure that you're okay."

"Dude, I'm okay. I'm okay!" he snapped. "I swear, the next person who asks me if I'm okay, I'm going to start throwing punches. These are your issues, Sam. Quit dumping them on me!"

Sam frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Guys, can we not do this, _please_?" Stacey interjected, but her words appeared to fall on deaf ears. Neither brother took any notice of her, or even acknowledged that she had spoken.

"I just think it's really interesting, this sudden obedience you have to dad. It's like, oh, what would dad want me to do? Sam, you spent your entire life slugging it out with the man." He came to a halt, and he turned to face him. "I mean, hell, you picked a fight with him the last time you ever saw him. And now that he's dead, now you wanna make it right? Well, I'm sorry, Sam, but you can't. It's too little, too late."

Sam regarded him for a long moment, and a frown formed at his brow. "Why are you saying this to me?"

"Because I want you to be honest with yourself about this." he pushed. "I'm dealing with dad's death! _Are you_?!"

Sam stared at him, and for a while he said nothing. He was lost deep in thought, and he looked as though he wanted to cry. But he shook his head, and he composed himself. "I'm gonna call Ellen." he muttered, before he turned away from them and walked away down the road.

Stacey sighed as she watched after him, and she glanced towards her elder brother. "Little harsh, don't you think?" she asked, but there was no annoyance in her tone. She sounded concerned. Maybe more towards him than their brother.

Dean shook his head, because, honestly, he didn't need it. "Don't start with me, Stacey." he muttered, defensive.

The tone took her by surprise, and she raised her eyebrows. "I'm not starting anything with you, Dean." she countered, a little offended. "Dean, I am with you here, alright? I get that you don't wanna sit and talk about things, I get that you're dealing with this in your own way, that's fine. But, Sam is hurting, the same as you. He's trying to deal with this the best he can. We all are. Don't jump down his throat for being worried about you."

Dean sighed, and a look of remorse flickered through his features. He thought carefully on her words for a moment, and he nodded. "I'm sorry." he mumbled, sincere.

"Don't apologize to me, Dean. I get it." she assured. "More than you think I do. But, Sam's different. He always has been. He doesn't shut himself away and pretend things haven't happened. Sam's way of dealing with things is worrying about everyone else. You know that. Just, go easy on him, alright?"

Dean looked towards him as he returned his phone to his jacket, and he raised a brow. "Anything?"

Sam nodded. "Rakshasa."

"Bless you." Stacey muttered, and Sam rolled his eyes. She squinted up at him through the rising sunlight and raised a brow, curious. "Alright, I'll bite, what the hell is that?"

"Ellen's best guess." he offered. "It's a race of ancient Hindu creatures, they appear in human form, they feed on human flesh, they can make themselves invisible, and they cannot enter a home without being invited first."

Dean thought on his words for a moment, and he nodded. "So, they dress up like clowns, and the children invite them in." he thought aloud. "Why don't they just munch on the kids?"

"No idea, not enough meat on the bones, maybe?" He shrugged. "Apparently, Rakshasas live in squalor. They sleep on a bed of insects. And they have to feed a few times every twenty or thirty years. Slow metabolism, I guess."

"Well, that makes sense. I mean, the Carnival today, the Bunker Brothers in eighty-one. Probably more before that." He thought about it for a moment, and he looked between his siblings. "Who do we know that worked on both shows?"

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Cooper?" He nodded, because things were starting to make a lot more sense. "You know, that picture of his father, it looked just like him. Who knows how old he really is."

"Alright, so we've got a guy." Stacey raised her eyebrows. "Did Ellen say how to kill him?"

"Legend goes, a dagger made of pure brass." Sam offered.

Dean snapped his fingers. "I think I know where to get one of those."

"Well, before we go stabbing things into Cooper, we're going to want to make damn sure it's him." Sam stated.

Dean huffed, and he rolled his eyes. "Oh, you're such a stickler for details, Sammy." he mused. "Alright, we go back tonight. I'll round up the blade, you and Stace go check if Cooper's got bedbugs."

"So, we've got all day to kill, right?" Stacey suddenly sounded so much more optimistic. "Motel? Shower. Bed. Sleep. Yeah?" Dean simply stared at her. "Yeah? Is that what we're doing?"

"Fine." he muttered. "Let's get some breakfast and then I promise I'll find you somewhere to shower and nap, deal?"

Stacey grinned up at him as though Christmas had come early. "Deal."

"You know, I wish all women were as easily pleased as you," he remarked. "A cold shower in a dive motel and a lumpy bed, you're over the freakin' moon."

"And, breakfast on you," she countered. "You did just say that, right?"

"No, I said we'd go and get breakfast somewhere, nice try, Stace." he said, and he shoved her playfully in the arm as he spoke. "Besides, girl on a doctor's wages, I think breakfast should be on you."

"She's right, Dean." Sam pondered. "You did kinda imply it was on you."

Dean looked to him, incredulous. "Oh, I get it, you've got yourself a little sidekick, now you're gonna start getting smart." He shook his head as he continued down the road. "Give me strength."

Behind him, he heard Sam and Stacey chuckle, and he couldn't help the smile that came to his face.

* * *

_Cooper Carnival — Medford, Wisconsin — 11:19PM_

There was something about the carnival that was somewhat eerie during the night. Everything that was so lively and bright during the day was suddenly dark and silenced. Everything was abandoned. Where there were usually children running around, playing and laughing, was darkness. The rides and arcades that were full of movement and music were motionless and abandoned. It was like a ghost town.

"Alright, I'm gonna go find us a blade." Dean stated. "You two go and find out if Cooper is our guy."

Stacey nodded in understanding. "Right." she affirmed. "Be careful."

"You know me," Dean threw her a cocky smirk. "Careful is my middle name, Stace."

There was a fond smile on her face as she watched him walk away. "He hasn't changed, has he?"

Sam huffed a laugh in agreement. "Not one bit." he mused. "Come on, let's go find Cooper."

Together, they approached the trailer where they had undertaken their unofficial interview. The lights were turned off inside, and there was no sign of anyone being home. Slowly, careful not to make a sound, Stacey approached and she peered through the small window in the door.

"I can't see anyone." she murmured, and she pulled out Dean's lock picking kit from her back pocket. The lock here was much easier to crack than that of the Roadhouse, and it was open within seconds. She glanced back towards her brother, who simply gave her a nod of encouragement to continue inside.

There was nobody there but them, and Sam wasted no time in heading towards the single bed towards the side of the trailer. He ripped back the sheets and pulled a small knife from his belt. He stabbed at the exposed mattress, and he ripped a large tear through the fabric. Inside there was nothing but springs and feathers, definitely nothing that could arouse suspicion.

"Uh, Stace?" he looked to her with a frown. "I don't think it's Cooper."

The sound of a shotgun being cocked behind them made them both jump, and they turned quickly to be faced with Mr Cooper. There was a confused frown on his face, and he took a better aim towards them. "What do you think you're doing?" he accused.

Stacey held up her hands on instinct, her mouth opened and closed, but she couldn't think up a plausible excuse to justify what he had found them doing. She looked towards her brother for some kind of help, but his face matched hers perfectly. They looked like nothing more that two teenagers caught bunking off school, guilty and busted.

"We, uh..." Sam stumbled over an excuse. "We were just... I..."

Mr Cooper narrowed his eyes. "Get out of here." he warned. "Both of you. You're fired."

Sam and Stacey didn't wait for him to change his mind, they hurried out of the trailer, and he slammed the door closed behind them. "What now?"

Stacey shook her head, lost. "Let's go find Dean."

But they didn't have to. Before they could make a move to follow where their brother had gone, he sprinted past them.

"Hey!" Sam called out, and Dean came skidding to a halt. He turned, eyes wide. "So, Cooper thinks that we're a couple of peeping Tom's.. but it's not him."

"Yeah," Dean breathed. "So I gathered. It's the blind guy. He's here somewhere."

"Well, did you get the brass blades?" Sam pressed.

But Dean simply shook his head. "No. No, it's been one of those days."

Sam pulled a hand down his face, and suddenly he appeared so focused. "I've got an idea. Come on."

Dean and Stacey followed him on instinct, and the three of them ran into the fun house. They stood in a long room, and there were mirrors surrounded by different colored neon lights all around them. Slowly, cautious, they headed down the long corridor, before a door slid closed between them out of nowhere. Sam was on one side, while Dean and Stacey were on the other.

"Oh, that's just great." Dean muttered. He attempted to open it, but it wouldn't budge. "Sam?!"

"Dean! Stacey!" Sam called back through the thin door. "Find the maze, okay?!"

Dean stepped back, and he looked to his sister. "Stay close to me, you hear?" Stacey nodded, but she said nothing. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good." she answered, but he wasn't convinced.

Dean stopped walking, and he looked down at her seriously. His hands rested to her shoulders, and his eyes found hers. "Listen to me, Stace, if you don't wanna do this, go. It's alright."

"Dean, I'm good." she assured. "Come on, we need to find Sam."

For a moment he looked torn between arguing with her or continuing, but there was no time to stand around. He nodded, and he continued through the fun house. Stacey was right beside him, and he made a conscious effort to ensure that he could see her from the corner of his eye. It hadn't been until that moment that he remembered what it was like to have her hunt with him. Stacey was more than capable of taking care of herself, he knew that, and she had proved it to him a million times in the past, but there was always something in the back of his mind that was terrified something could happen to her. He had forgotten how much he worried for her.

The two of them rounded a corner and found their brother, seemingly wrestling with the pipes of a large organ. They both appeared confused, until they realized, the pipe that he was trying to break from it was made of brass.

"Guys," Sam called towards them. "Where is it?"

"I don't know, man." Dean replied, confused. "I mean, shouldn't we see it's clothes walking around or something?"

Something hard collided with Dean's chest, and he was forced back against the wall. He looked to his sister, and his eyes went wide. He opened his mouth, about to ask what the hell her problem was, but a large knife flew against the wall where he had been standing.

"Thanks for that." he stated.

Out of nowhere, another came flying towards him, and it pinned his sleeve to the wall. Another came, and this time pinned his wrist up by the cuff of his jacket.

"Sam!" he yelled. "Hurry up!"

At his words, the brass pipe came loose, and Sam turned. "Where is it?!" A knife flew past his head, and he narrowly moved back enough to dodge it. He looked towards the source, and he and Stacey moved slowly towards it.

"I don't know." Dean's eyes searched frantically for some sight of it, but he saw nothing. He tugged against the knives holding him against the wall, but they were stuck deep within the surface. "Be careful!"

Something caught his gaze, and he reached up desperately towards a small lever in the corner. He tugged at it, and more and more smoke began pouring from the organ. It left a barely noticeable outline of an invisible man, but it was enough.

"Stacey!" Dean yelled, frantic. "Behind you."

Stacey turned on instinct, and her fist collided with something solid. Though she saw nothing, something before her let out a pained groan. Sam appeared behind her, and he forced the brass pipe forwards into the figure she had punched. He felt it hit something solid, and blood poured from the end at his hands. He let go, and the pipe remained buried within the creature. Dean managed to pull the knife holding his wrist free, and, with two hands, he easily freed himself from where he was pinned.

Slowly, he reached up and retracted the lever. As the smoke began to dissipate, everything became so much clearer. The three of them stood and looked down at a clown costume and a bloody pipe on the floor before them.

"Huh." Dean observed. He looked around slowly. "I hate fun-houses."

Sam snickered, and he bent down to pick up the pipe. "Let's get the hell out of here."

* * *

_Harvelle__'s Roadhouse — Central Nebraska — 10:01AM_

Ellen set down three beers in front of them with a smile. "You kids did a hell of a job back there." she said, and there was a note of pride in her tone. "Your dad would have been proud of you."

Sam smiled, and he nodded. "Thanks."

The back door behind the bar flew open, and Ash appeared. He held the folder of their father's research and a bizarre looking laptop in his hands. "Where you guys been?" he asked, almost excited. "I've been waitin' for ya."

"We were working a job, Ash." Sam stated, amused. "Clowns?"

"_Clowns_?" Ash frowned, as though he had never heard anything quite so ridiculous. "What the fu—"

"You got something for us, Ash?" Dean interrupted.

Ash set his laptop down in front of them. It appeared to be home-made. There were different parts added to it, and there was a lot of exposed wiring.

"Did you find the demon?" Sam pressed, curious.

Ash shook his head. "It's nowhere around." he told them. "At least, nowhere I can find. But, if this fugly bastard raises his head, I'll know. I mean, I'm on it like Divine on dog dookie."

Stacey raised an eyebrow, perplexed. "What does that mean?"

"I mean," He turned the laptop screen to face them. There were numerous pages open, tracking anything and everything they could have thought of. "Any of those signs or omens appear, anywhere in the world, my rig'll go off." he stated, and he sounded so proud of himself. "Like a fire alarm."

Dean reached out towards the laptop, and Ash threw him a stern look. "Do you mind?" he asked, his finger still hovering over one of the buttons, but Ash's face didn't change, and, slowly, Dean retracted his hand. "Yeah."

Sam appeared nothing but astounded. "Ash, where did you lean to do all this?"

"M.I.T." he replied. "Before I got bounced for... fighting."

His eyebrows raised, surprise. "M.I.T.?"

Ash nodded, and the obvious shock seemed to offend him. "It's a school in Boston." he stated, blunt.

"Okay." Dean turned to him. "You give us a call as soon as you known something?"

"Si, si, compadre." Ash replied, and he pulled the laptop back towards himself.

Dean took one last sip of his beer before he set it down on the bar, and it was there for a brief second before Ash picked it up. The three of them rose from where they sat, ready to leave, but Ellen stopped them.

"Hey, listen, if you kids need a place to stay, I've got a couple of beds out back." she offered.

Dean smiled, because maybe they had found someone with a genuinely kind heart that they could count on to be a part of their lives. "Thanks, but, uh, no." he said. "There's something I gotta finish."

Ellen nodded in understanding, and she and Jo waved them off as they left the Roadhouse.

Dean looked towards his sister as they headed towards their car, and he ruffled her brown hair affectionately. "First hunt back." he commented. "You did good, kid."

Stacey smiled up at him, and she linked her arm with his. "It's nice to be home."

_Home_. It was a word that touched Dean, and he wasn't sure why. They hadn't really had a home since they had been young children, a home that he doubted either of his siblings could remember. Yet, to Stacey, that wasn't what she considered home. To her, home was where they were right now, home was hunting with her brothers, it was sitting in a car for hours watching someone else's house as they waited for an evil creature to show up, it was taking down monsters together and watching each other's backs, it was ridding the world of one malicious creature at a time to make the world a safer place. It was just the three of them being together.

And, for the first time in a long, long time, they were.

Something told him that perhaps everything could be alright. And, in that moment, he was more than willing to believe it.

* * *

_Souix Falls, South Dakota __—__ Bobby Singer's Home __—__ 03:55PM_

There was one fact that Stacey had never doubted in her life; there was only so long somebody could hold everything inside and pretend they couldn't feel it before everything around them exploded. Looking out at the scene before her, she was pretty sure it had finally happened. The Impala was in a much more concerning state than it had been when she had left Bobby's home that morning. And so was her brother.

Dean was leaning up against his car, his head buried deep in his hands. He looked a wreck.

Slowly, tentative, she approached. Her fingertips gently traced the side of his car, feeling the deep dents and scratches that she could only assume had been made by the crowbar beside him. The windows were smashed, the side was completely destroyed, and the bonnet was marked with numerous dents that she couldn't imagine how he would fix. Her heart broke to see him, and his car, like that.

"What happened here?" she asked. Her voice was soft, understanding, patient.

Dean shook his head, and he looked up to face her. There were tears swimming in his eyes, ones that she knew he would refuse to let fall. "It's my fault, Stacey." he stated, and the pain in his words twisted in the pit of her stomach. "This... all of it. It's because of me."

Stacey frowned, and she moved to sit down beside him. "Don't say that, Dean."

"It's true." he muttered, disheartened. "I know it is."

Stacey cleared her throat, because, truthfully, she didn't know what to say. "Look, Dean, I know this is hard, but, sometimes, these things happen. It's not fair, but it's the truth."

"You're lying to me, Stacey." he scolded. "These things don't just happen." He took a short breath, and he looked to her. "You look me in the eye and you tell me that I should be alive right now. You look me in the eye and tell me that dad should be dead."

Stacey opened and closed her mouth. "Dean—"

"You can't, can you?" He shook his head at her. "You know something, Stace. I know you do."

"I know that you're grieving." she stated, blunt. "And I know that you're not thinking straight. Dean, please, just, hear me when I tell you this. What happened to dad, it's not your fault. You need to understand that." Almost hesitant, and unsure of the reception she would receive from her actions, Stacey moved towards him. She pulled him closer and wrapped her arms around him, and her hand gently found his hair. "I'm so sorry, Dean." she whispered.

Dean shook his head, as though to say that she had nothing to apologize for, and he hugged her back tightly. He took the comfort from her that he knew he needed, but that he had denied himself since it had happened.

Stacey blinked the tears from her eyes, and she tried to swallow the guilt she felt. She was lying to his face, and that hurt more than she could imagine. What was she supposed to do? Dean was outright asking her if he should have died in that hospital, and she knew for a fact that it was true. Their father had sold his soul for him, he had all but admitted it to her, and she couldn't bring herself to tell him what she knew. The news would destroy her already broken brother, and she couldn't put him through that. But how long was she supposed to lie to him about it? Dean was never going to stop looking for an answer to their father's untimely death, and she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep up the act that she was as much in the dark as her siblings.

"I'm with you, Dean." she murmured. "We'll get through this. I promise."

Dean sniffled against her shoulder, and she was sure she felt his tears against her shirt, but she said nothing as he held her a little tighter. His hands gripped the material of her clothes, and his shoulders gave the smallest of shakes.

Eventually, she knew, it would all come out, and it would be a painful day when it did.

But, until then, she did what she could. She held her brother in her arms and did what she could to comfort him.

That was all she could do. And, for him, in that moment, it was enough.

* * *

_Super long chapter, I know. I think I got carried away. Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed. I'll have more up for you soon. Have a lovely weekend! _


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